


lesser

by perceptivePecan



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Depression, Friendship, Hemophobia, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Loneliness, M/M, assholes being assholes, maybe disapponting ending, troll racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:08:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24603688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perceptivePecan/pseuds/perceptivePecan
Summary: Because all you ever wanted was for someone to just listen to you.
Relationships: Cronus Ampora/Kankri Vantas, Kankri Vantas & Karkat Vantas
Comments: 10
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been working on this on and off and have a few chapter's written already? Just going to smack out a chapter or two to see what people think before posting the others.

Your heels dig into the sand impatiently. Hot, you think for the hundredth time, it is pretty damn hot out. Not overly so, but enough that the weather is unnatural for Beforus. Of course, you aren’t standing on any Beforan beach. The dream bubbles have superior features to the living multiverse, and yet, they only ever cause the most bizarre collisions of aesthetics. 

The air is thick like the height of the worst third summer in living memory, but the beach itself is Earth-like, with pale gold sands and clear blue waves stretching on forever. The light breeze barely even moves any of your greased up hair, but you still welcome the gentle wind on your arms and face.

Of all the combinations the bubbles could have made, they culminated in the most logical and mundane environment; beach, and an alien beach. It may not be home, but it’s one of your favourite places to visit, you like having the comforts of the sea nearby with its subtle twist. The sun doesn't even bother you; being dead provides many advantages in that sense; no need to eat or drink or do much else, and everything that isn’t a person is an illusion. If you don’t believe it will affect you, then it won’t.

Time works differently here, too. Again, this could be both a good thing and a bad thing. For example; you have been waiting for what seems like an epoch for one of your elusive ‘friends’ to arrive, while it might only be a few hours from when you asked him to join you, it could be minutes, or even days for him. You've been staring across the tides, watching the waves sway and dance for you as your mind ponders over all the reasons Kankri Vantas won’t show up.

You were never the biggest fan of his inane monologues, and you’re sure he knows that. Nobody likes his monologues. But you still remember how he came to your defence when you had been confronted by Meenah, how he had looked at you like you weren’t some attention seeking liar. You needed that, after an eternity of people brushing you off and laughing in your face, even if your single sympathetic connection came from some pompous little mutant.

You’ve been walking along the beach for so long now that your patience is beginning to wear thin. It might just be the dream bubbles making time flow strangely for the both of you, or Kankri may genuinely be caught up with someone or something; you know Porrim dotes on him for whatever reason, he could be with her? But you can’t help but see his smug face in your mind, and believe that he is making you wait on purpose, making himself seem so much more important than you, like he enjoys doing with everyone else. 

It’s all you can think about as you knead a cigarette between your lips and kick at the sand. You know he is fucking with you, and not in the good way, and it’s making your fingers twitch and clench. You know he’s beneath you, and so does he, and he wants to make you look pathetic to get some sick sense of pleasure from knowing he could make you feel like the lesser man. You wish you had both grown up on Alternia, at least then you could put people like him in their place and nobody would even think twice about it.

You clench your jaw and bite down on your cigarette, breaking it in two. The head falls down onto the ground in front of you. You pause and frown down at it as you curse your brash action, until a pair of shoes come into view opposite you. You are a moment away from flinching up to see who had intruded your privacy so suddenly, when you see him crouch down before you and pick the cigarette head up between his thumb and forefinger like it’s some foreign object he shouldn’t be touching.

He stands back up soundlessly and holds the cigarette out to you, standing there expectantly with that bland, uninterested expression on his face. “I hate to interrupt what I am sure was a rather intense inner conflict, to which I am fully capable of understanding as I myself am prone to private moments of deep contemplation. However, you really should make an effort to be more considerate when it comes to losing track of time when you are expecting a guest. Especially if you had invited that guest in the first place, since he, in this situation,  _ I _ , am quite busy otherwise.”

You stare down at him, before holding out your hand while he drops the cigarette head into your open palm. “Well, you certainly took your time. Can you blame me for getting distracted?” You groan whilst pushing the cigarette into your pocket.

His hand returns to his side alongside the other one, and his expression does not change, but you are sure you see a slight twitch in his eye. “Like I said, I am quite busy, but I managed to find some time to take you up on your offer to join you at this,” he looks around, seeming to struggle to find the right word, “quaint location.”

He is undoubtedly mocking you, and it does little to make you any less regretful of asking him to come. You huff down at him, fins flicking in agitation. “How nice of you,” you respond bitterly, voice lowering.

His thick brows arc and he tilts his head up at you, “quite.” He folds his arms across his chest and shifts his footing. “I hate to be presumptuous, but I had assumed you wished to see me in private for a reason.”

“Is it so wrong for one good looking guy to ask another to hang out?” You ask, tilting your head and puffing out your chest.

Kankri appears unimpressed with that, pale eyes appearing to not leave yours. He sighs out through his nose and just shakes his head. “It would seem we’ve initiated this dialogue rather terribly. Allow me to offer the opportunity for us to start from the beginning.” He lifts his hand to cough into his fist, then returns it back to his chest. “Hello, Cronus. Is there something important you wished to discuss with me since you have gone so far out of your way to accommodate me into what I am positive is as busy an afterlife as mine?”

You’d roll your eyes if they weren’t glazed white from death, and plant your hands on your hips.

“Well, Cronus?” He asks when you don’t answer him.

“Sorry, chief, just got lost in those pearly white eyes of yours,” you grin, tilting your head to turn on the old innocent charm.

He frowns immediately at your words, and again, he doesn’t appear amused by your statement. “I’m sure that was meant to be some sort of compliment, but I must tell you that if you are attempting some poor effort of concupiscent solicitation; I cannot stress enough how uninterested I am. It isn’t a secret that I have made an effort to lead a chaste existence, and if you hadn’t known before, you certainly do now, so any efforts you make to pursue me are most certainly in vain. Whether it be to stroke your own ego or if you are treating me this way out of sincere feelings.”

Ouch. You felt that. “Whoa, there’s no need to be so harsh about it, Kanny. You’ve legitimately hurt my feelings here,” you hold a hand over your chest. “You’re really just trying to twist the fork, aren’t you?” You pout your lips down at him.

He opens his mouth to speak, but you push your hand out flat in front of him to hold his silence.

“I mean- really, even if I was being a little bit playful, you didn’t have to shoot me down so terribly. I thought we were buddies, y’know?” You move closer and place your hand on his shoulder. “I mean, we’ve always had something great to talk about. You with your social justice bullshit and me and my deep personal problems. It’s been beautiful, really.” You grin. “So what I was thinkin-“

Your words are caught in your throat as you feel something sharp slash across your cheek. You flinch back instinctively and press your fingers against the wounds; claw marks. You can feel the blood oozing out, and when you look at your hand it’s dripping violet.

Kankri is glaring up at you with his fangs bared to the point you can see his gums. He’s far more defensive than before, lower stance, tighter shoulders. You’ve genuinely pissed him off. Your brows furrow tightly together and you glance down at his wet hand as he flicks away the blood, which simply evaporates into nothingness as the reality of the bubbles acknowledges the fact that you are dead, and therefore cannot and should not bleed. It takes the both of you a few moments to remember, it seems.

“Kankri what the fuck?!”

“Don’t  _ ever _ touch me.”

You recoil from him and a hiss escapes your throat, rippling out through your teeth and gills until your fins flare, bright and violet.

He seems to consider you for a moment, face sour and just so fucking typical for him. The glare he gives you is enough to make you stand your ground, as if he might go for your throat next. It doesn’t matter since you’re dead and it wouldn’t make a difference, but you don’t even think about that. He emits pure rage, like he is some great force to be reckoned with, and you believe it entirely.

You never thought you’d feel fear when it came to a lowblood, let alone this mutant reject everyone joked about behind his back. You’ve looked down on him until now, perhaps seen him as someone that might be willing to speak to you like you weren’t the enemy. But being afraid of him? You hadn’t considered it before. He’s never directed aggression towards you before, for the simple fact the two of you were never really close. He’d been so clearly unavailable, obnoxiously so, that you’d barely bothered to initiate any kind of connection.

Was he always like this? Or was it the afterlife that did this to him? Perhaps it was the Alternian trolls that had brought this out in him, or even the humans? Beforus was hardly the place to encourage violence or aggression, your old empress seen to that. But then, Kankri wasn’t really part of any of that, was he? He was an outlier of society, an outcast, a mutant. He was never supposed to exist. He was always going to be different from the rest of you.

“I’m sure your little display must have made you feel quite impressive, but I am afraid it is time for me to take my leave,” he says as he straightens himself out. “I do hope that this has been every bit as pleasant for you as it has been for me, Cronus. Now if you will excuse me, as I mentioned before I have a busy schedule to keep up with.”

Before you even get a word in, the area behind him changes; instead of beach there’s hives- houses- no, their Beforan, their just hives. All you see is that red sweater disappearing around a sandy street corner, and then you’re alone again. 

You deflate, shoulders sinking and head falling back with a low groan. “You could’ve fucked that up more, ay? Could’ve fucked it up more…” you whine, rubbing a hand down your face. It was always going to be a long shot with Kankri, you know that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kankri's pov.

You turn the corner with a long sigh, glancing back to see if he has followed you. It appears he has not, and this is most certainly not disappointment you’re experiencing. 

You should have known better than to trust an Ampora, you’ve already had to deal with his other iterations and it never led to anything productive or enjoyable in the past. Cronus Ampora is as predictable as he is obnoxious, and it was foolish of you to assume otherwise. But you will hardly make that mistake again!

You brush down your thick red sweater and straighten your back, holding your head high. You have dignity, after all, and standing like a back alley miscreant or some peasant slob only promotes others to look at you as such. You hold yourself with pride, and others will respect you more for it.

You walk down the road, fishing through your mind for the right kind of memory, one you knew people held attachment to. You always had a keen sense for attachments, perhaps you couldn’t place the particular type of attachments, but you certainly know when someone feels strongly about, people and locations. It’s always good for finding people, and their belongings, depending on how attached they were to them. You remember once Horuss asked you to help find his tools, and you found them in no time.

Nobody really seeks you out, though. It was always you reaching out for others, as aloof as you realise you are, and as much as you were one for taking the initiative in most aspects of your life (and afterlife), it does bother you sometimes when your friends appear to avoid you.

And yet you must go on. The dream bubbles are for eternity, after all, you aren’t going anywhere.

You know where Porrim is most of the time, no matter how far she wanders or creates new places to roam. You also know where Latula is a great deal of the time, but that’s less to do with your Seer of Blood abilities and more to do with predictability; are there sharp inclines in the landscape? Yes? She’s there. The others elude you, but you doubt that they are far, given that there’s quite possibly an infinite number of your dead friends.

You could try and find someone you know tolerates your company. The females typically do more than the males of your group. You could attempt to initiate some dialogue with some of your scratched ancestors, some of them could  _ definitely _ use a good lectu- session of informative interaction. Perhaps you could find one of the humans? There were plenty of them running around.

Although, they were arguably worse than your more violent ancestors… Or descendants. What was it again that Porrim called them? Anscendants? No, no. It was Dancestors, you’re sure of it. As unprofessional as most of the things that pass her harlot lips, you’ll admit it is catchy, even if anscendants sounds a lot more decorative a title in your opinion.

You decide against interacting with anyone. It’s difficult enough to deal with them all, especially when you feel so conflicted about it. You enjoy teaching others a lesson or two, but there is only so many times you can be pushed. Some contemplative time set aside for yourself and your thoughts feels appropriate, especially after your last encounter.

You find yourself a quiet place; a cross between a forest and a library where the trunks are hollow shelves and the leaves are pages. You always enjoyed this space, it’s one of your favourite creations. As you sit up against one of the trees and pull a page down to glance at (a page from Beforan Ulysses), you allow yourself to let out a warm sigh. You feel like you’re home and safe, and just when the silence feels too thick, a subtle breeze of spoken melody passes through the page-leaves, echoing off through the forest like you yourself were softly reading. You allow your eyes to close and you lose yourself in the rare peace.

You aren’t sure how long you spend like this, there was never any way of knowing, not even to an adept traverser of the bubbles like yourself, and it never mattered. Time doesn’t go anywhere, and you're already dead. You might have spent longer in meditation but you are awoken by the sound of voices, more specifically what sounds like an argument. It isn’t the first time you’ve heard this, although you had hoped they would follow one another’s example and keep this place as a sort of hallowed ground where the closer to silence there is, the happier you would all be.

Alas, confrontations happen, especially when you are involved.

With a slow sigh, you lift yourself up and head towards the voices, doing your best to keep your wits about you. This was always something you found a little weird, and by all rights it shouldn’t be. But as you approach the two other Kankris, you can’t help but feel something sour well up in your gut.

One looks like you, but far younger; genuinely younger, like he had died when he was starting off in the game you and your friends had played. He also hasn’t received the red sweater from Porrim yet. Your eyes fix on him curiously, contemplating the life you had before you died. He looks rougher, you think; a mess of hair hiding a portion of his hardened expression. You could scoff, but you could also smile at the sight.

The other looks closer to the age you died at, but there’s something about him that makes you uneasy, but not in the way you make other people feel uneasy. It could be the Seer of Blood outfit and the bright red wings, or it could be the scars scattered across his bare grey flesh. Or the way he has just been looking at you knowingly whilst you assess the situation.

You hesitate, but only for a moment before straightening your back and striding over to them. “As much as I hate to interrupt anyone during what is surely a passionate debate-“

“You do not,” says the god tier Kankri, lowering his hood so you may have a better look at his face. He must have liked the scars, otherwise he wouldn’t have them.

You pause just short of reaching them, and frown.

“Don’t feign offence when you are not the wounded party. That look only sours you.”

You aren’t really sure what to make of him, because you know he knows you, and he knows you know, and so on. “Am I not the wounded party in this scenario?” You ask carefully.

He considers this with a slight tilt of his head, lifting his head to look down on you. “You are interrupting a private conversation without permission-“

“If you had allowed me a moment to-“

He raises his hand, and you freeze ever so slightly, just a twitch of the skin. You remember this feeling. “And quite frankly, I don’t care to engage in debate with you. I’ve seen enough of your type, it’s all the same, really. False justice and backhanded comments, how drab.” He sighs. “A shame, really.”

Your brows tighten and you suppress the urge to hiss because you can tell he is attempting to get a rise out of you for whatever reason. “W-“

“Now  _ I _ would find it acceptable if you left. Myself and our younger iteration were just about to reach a conclusion we would both appreciate you were not witness to.” His wings give a light shift, expanding and retracting. “That is what this place is for, after all.”

You glare at him, “we created this place as a space for a much needed break. A quiet space of contemplation and relaxation. And you were both rather  _ not _ quiet.”

“Your safe space?” He asks with a slight smirk.

You do not like this conversation. “... If you prefer that term.”

“I see,” he nods, and looks back to the younger Kankri, who doesn’t seem to know what to say to his two elders. “Well there is a great expanse of this area, if you wish for quiet you may seek it out. Or move on.”

This time you scoff, and fold your arms in protest. “I fail to see why I must do either. You were both the ones that were disrupting the peace, and your tactics of intimidation aren’t so unfamiliar to me, so their usage in this instance is both dull and admittedly causing me to wish to vomit since you are me, therefore those words coming out of your mouth are my own. It’s more than a little disheartening.”

“As is your existence, apparently,” says the younger Kankri, staring spitefully up at you, broken curls rebelling against his forehead.

With taught lips you look down on him, but he holds his ground, making your lip twitch into an almost growl. You have little to say now; very little you want to say. You settle for a calm and dignified goodbye before taking your leave. Though, you feel their eyes on your back until you know you’re too far for them to see.

You don’t want to stay in your sanctuary anymore, the feeling of security has been ruined. You play with the ends of your sleeves like it’s the most comforting thing in the world to you, and you hate that it is in this moment. You aren’t some little wriggler that needs comforting or something warm and soft to hold himself against. But you can’t not feel comforted even the slightest by the sweater, knowing the effort Porrim put into making it for you. Just for you. She even made sure to use nice material, nothing that itched or felt too heavy.

You are about to move on to go see her when someone catches you unaware, calling out to you as a brief glimpse of the new landscape creeps into the forest.

“-Hey! Wait up!”

You can’t help but feel confused a moment, because you… Think you recognise that voice, you’re sure of it. When you turn, your eyes widen in surprise to see that it is Karkat trotting up to you. Not just any Karkat, the living Karkat. “Yes? Did you need something, Karkat?”

He huffs, and glares up at you. “Are you seriously just going to leave?”

You collect yourself into a better posture, gazing down at him with a softer expression than before. “I was. But if you require something of me, I suppose I can halt my progression for the time being, since your time here is always so tragically limited.”

“ _ Progression _ ,” he spits, looking back in the direction you came from.

You are suddenly aware that he saw a significant amount of what had just happened, and while he doesn’t appear pleased, you aren’t sure what he wants from you, or why he has come after you. Nobody comes after you. “I was just about to move on from this place,” you explain.

He rolls his still living eyes and folds his arms. “Yeah, I got that.” He gives you what you believe is a moment of assessment, looking you over like he is searching for something.

You aren’t sure how you’re supposed to feel. On the one hand, you do feel a bit of shame knowing someone like Karkat saw you being pushed away from your favourite place, and you also feel a bit of anger. But there’s something else there, and you know Karkat is trying to work out his feelings for the situation, too. You had better strike first. “Attempting communication with other variants of yourself from what is practically another life is never a good idea. I happened to be foolish enough to ignore this fact.”

He hums, and nods as his eyes dart to his feet. “I know the feeling.”

You nod back, briefly. “If you wished for assistance, the god tier would likely be your best bet at gaining knowledge, particularly involving our aspect. He likely has far greater knowledge than I, if-“

“No.” He barks harshly up at you, face contorted in a familiar expression. You remember that look. He sighs out through his nose and looks away, “okay. No. Let me get one thing straight; I don’t like you. You’re one of the worst people I’ve ever met, and I’ve known murderers and creeps. There is nothing I could endure less than a moment talking to that douchelord, or rather,  _ listening  _ to whilst my mind vacates my body.”

Your brows furrow, but you nod again. “I see. In that case, it would have been better if you had let me go on my way. Stopping me from continuing on with my busy schedule just to inform me of something as obnoxiously petulant and pointless is only counterproductive to the fact you do not seem to wish to engage with me. Now, I will do us both the favour of taking my leave before your  _ mind vacates your body _ .” You roll your eyes, though he cannot see them, as you turn to leave again.

He grabs your arm and holds you back.

You can’t stop the way your body feels wrong at the touch, especially when the grip on your lower arm is so tight. You flinch, and in that second your hands contort as they ready to lash out, claws curling out into view..

He lets go, and takes a step back before you can do anything more, and looks you over once again. He looks blank, vacant almost, just as he had said, though now it seems as if in deep thought as he raises his hands submissively. “Sorry,” he says, lowering his hands, “just- Don’t go, okay? I did want to talk to you.”

You slowly relax, anything that had been curled or tightened was sliding back into neutral as you turn back to face him cautiously. “Apology accepted.”

He takes a deep breath and holds it there a minute before letting it go. “You may be an asshole, but those guys were bigger assholes. I can tell they made you feel… Small. It’s a shitty feeling, and it’s even worse when nobody wants to hear you out, even if all you say might as well be coming out of your ass. But when nobody has your back or at least humors you, it’s worse.” He rolls his head to the side, and doesn’t quite look at you. “I know the feeling.”

You aren’t sure how to process this. No one takes a minute to say these kinds of things to you. Nobody wants to make that connection, especially from a place of common ground. You’re actually stunned into silence, though you do nothing to betray your hidden shock.

“Maybe we’re not so different, who fucking knows,” he shrugs, “well, obviously we are, but, I can see the similarities, even if I really don’t want to. And I just wanted you to know you’re not alone.”

You blink, and frown, stance relaxing to the point you can feel your limbs pull towards the ground. “Is… That all?”

He looks up at you, lips parted and expression hard to read, perhaps… Offended? Open?... Vulnerable, that was it. He shrugs again. “I don’t fucking know, I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to leave just because another version of yourself made you feel like you’re the lesser one.”

You flinch at that, and consider what he says. “You have such a strong sense of empathy… Although, I suppose that can only be expected of a knight of blood.”

He lips tighten together and you feel like you’ve lost him again.

“I-“ you cough into your hand, closing your eyes, “thank you, I believe is the correct response.”

“You’re fucking welcome.” He growls, arms tightening up in the fold they make at his chest. You stare at them, and at the grey symbol marking his black sweater.

You feel softer, somewhat, warmer. Sure, your ‘descendant’ may be part of a brutally flawed system, but he was part of something. Karkat had been hatched into a society with something that gave him value; a sign that said ‘I’m here, I’m one of you.’ But there was no red, he was still an outsider, failing to conform to his society even if he was a part of it, because they would reject him. They would have killed him.

You turn your gaze back to his face, and offer the slightest of smiles. “Would you care to join me further? I had been going to see a friend, but I do believe she might be… Occupied, in a sense. It would be appealing to have your company for the next while.”

“The older Kanaya?” He asks knowingly. “Your Maryam, I mean.”

“You are correct. I believe our relationship with jadebloods is consistent across multiple realities. We do have much in common with them, after all, and our affinities for forming connections with others comes easily. Although, there are outliers in this regard. It’s only natural that we form close bonds with them. Of course, there are other reasons why we-“

“Kankri, stop,” he speaks with a groan, “please, man. One day, I might let you explain this shit. But now isn’t the time.”

You pause to consider him, “I see, then perhaps I can share this knowledge with you at a more ideal date.”

“Cool,” he agrees, and let’s his hands fall back to his sides. “I do still have time before I wake up. So long as you don’t get too… Overzealous with the lecturing, or the berating, we can hang out, I guess.”

You nod again, and look around. “Perhaps not here, this place isn’t intended for noise, let alone for conversation.”

“Oh.”

“Quite. Is there somewhere in your memories you would like to go? You have seen my inner sanctuary, it would be unfair for me to not see one of yours.”

It’s his turn to flinch, and look up at you like an unsure wriggler, biting at his lower lip as if he was trying to make himself bleed.

“You’re uncomfortable with someone seeing something so important to you, I see. You want to keep your memories safe and private, regardless of whether or not someone would accept this part of you. You’re afraid, in other words.”

“No.”

Your eyes narrow, “you cannot effectively lie to a seer, Karkat.”

He rolls his eyes, “that depends on the seer.”

“It does indeed.”

He looks away with a sigh, “okay.”

“Do you have a memory in mind?”

He shrugs, “Kind of.”

You wait for him patiently and the land around you slowly shifts. From the bookbound forest to a bright cave. Surrounding you in sharp blackened rock like obsidian, coated in specks of red crystals like rubies, but looking closer you notice they are in fact embers, pulsing at differing temperatures of heat as if they were each being stoked by their own fan at varying intervals.

You recognise this place. “The chambers of Abraxas is an interesting location.”

He groans, and kicks a loose stone across the cavern floor. The red heat followed the line the stone travelled, and then goes back to how it was before. You look down curiously to see the obsidian beneath you shine red with heat, though you don’t feel it. You take a step, and the heat follows you. “With an unfamiliar twist it would seem.”

“I like being reminded that my actions have consequences,” he admits, and walks over to the centre of the cave, where there is a pit. If memory serves you correctly, there should be water there; a pool.

You follow behind him, and indeed there is a pool. Within that pool there would have been a denizen, small but powerful in its own right. But there is nothing there but a skeleton of the god-like being there once was. You aren’t shocked or taken aback by the sight, and neither is Karkat, but he does look concerned, rubbing at his arm. “I didn’t know his name.”

You turn to look at him, “oh?”

“I didn’t listen to him when I met him.”

You look back down at the water, and the bones crumble to dust and fade from existence.

“I killed him,” he says quietly.

“It isn’t uncommon for players to kill their denizens,” you inform him, “sometimes it is necessary.”

“But it wasn’t!” He speaks much louder than before, letting the sound echo through the chambers, then it grows quiet once more. “It wasn’t this time. I was… An idiot. This selfish, arrogant, rage fueled idiot.”

You nod after a moment, and hold your hands together behind your back. “And you feel regret?”

He scoffs, “every other minute I’m conscious.”

“For many things, I see.”

His yellow and grey eyes focus on you, “you think you know me?”

“A seer sees,” you explain briefly. “And make rather good estimated guesses, as if it is second nature to them.”

He rolls his eyes, “you don’t know me.” He moves away from the pit and bones and towards a corner where an elevated slab appears, and he sits.

“You’re quite adept at manipulating the bubbles to your whim,” you say with an uplifting tone, following him over, but not sitting. “Especially considering your time here has always been brief. Even it’s oldest residents struggle to control the manifestations.”

He pulls his legs up to cross underneath him as he looks up at you, “it’s difficult unless I really concentrate. But I’ve always been good at imagining what I want.” He glances beside him, indicating he wants you to sit.

You take a moment to comply, sitting neatly by his side, making sure there is room between the both of you. “I meant that as a sincere compliment.”

“I guessed you did,” he admits, “thanks. But doing this doesn’t mean shit, not since I’m… You know.”

“Alive?” You offer him the word.

He looks uneasy, “well, yeah.”

“Being dead doesn’t bother me if you are concerned this is a sensitive topic for me,” you offer, tilting your head in his direction.

He hums, apparently not convinced.

“My death was quick, and mostly painless. I am still aware and capable. There is no drastic problem with the afterlife, when for the most part, I still feel very much alive. If it weren’t for technicalities, you could consider me a living being.”

“I guess that makes sense.” He responds. “You got blown up, right?”

“Yes,” you say calmly, “our whole party was killed in the scratch. Our only hope to survive was to die the moment the session came to an end. The god tiers didn’t have the opportunity to resurrect and the rest of us couldn’t wake up as our dream selves. Like I said; it was both quick and relatively painless. And now here we are.”

He nods, “I died once. It was on when I woke up on prospit, and Jack ripped the place apart.” He plays with the ends of his black sleeves absently, like he doesn’t realise he’s doing it. “... I haven’t talked to anyone in a while,” he admits suddenly after some silence passes. “Not without screaming at them.”

“I understand the feeling of frustration of being forced to deal with others when they don’t comply with your ideals or expectations,” you tell him.

He looks at you in disbelief. “I mean. Yeah, my friends could be assholes. But most of them are dead now, and seeing them in the dream bubbles is just… It’s too much. Especially when there’s thousands of them. I can’t deal with it.”

You don’t quite understand, you were never really bothered by the endless number of beings in the bubbles, though you say nothing since he seems to not be finished.

“I have three living friends left out of eleven,” he says quietly, “one is this girl I always liked, who I thought liked me, but she got swooped away by this human asshole that’s made a habit of practically bullying me anytime he sees me. One is too busy fawning over another human to even notice when I’m nearby anymore. And I don’t even know what the fuck is going on with the other one! They’ve all moved on to other people and… I’ve never been alone before.”

You look him over softly, “we aren’t meant to live alone.”

He only frowns, “nobody is. Nobody deserves that.”

“... I know that you were the epicentre of your group of friends. You were the proverbial glue that connected them, and held them together when the universe worked to tear them apart. It is no coincidence. You are the perfect knight of blood. What sounds to have happened is not only tragic, but quite out of place.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?! I failed them! Most of them are dead because of me, because I stood by and did nothing while they started killing each other.”

You don’t know how to respond since you don’t understand what exactly happened to Karkat and his friends, but you want to offer him something. “Sometimes things are out of your control. You are a knight, you want to protect, but there is only so much you can do. Just as there was only so much I could do for my party as a seer.”

“It doesn’t fucking matter,” he says quietly, and turns away.

“Karkat,” you say with a frustrated sigh, “you are acting like a wriggler, and that reflects poorly on the both of us.”

“Oh, suck a bulge you cretinous fuckballoon.”

Your eyes widen and you blink a couple of times before replying, “now you most certainly need to watch your word choice, and your tone. Whilst I’m positive you cannot control the foul dribble that spews out of that waste orifice you call a mouth, my ears aren’t a toilet and I would highly appreciate you checking your speech privileges and take into consideration how vile you sound.”

“I’ll talk however I want,” he spits back at you.

“Will you now?”

“What, are you going to stop me?”

“I could,” you warn him.

He laughs, did you know I’m actually so fucking desperate for company I’m willing to deal with this shit? Because it’s painful how much I like this better than sitting alone on a meteor with my own self-blasphemous thoughts.”

“I’m now aware of this knowledge, yes.”

“Holy shit! You are so unbearably insufferable! But you’re a fucking person and it pisses me off so much that I can’t ignore that fact. You have ideas and feelings and a past, and a god forsaken future. Every single fucking person I meet, I know this fact and I care so damn much about them and I hate it. I hate that I can look at anyone and see them as more than the asshole they appear to be.”

“That is just the nature of a knight,” You surmise, crossing one leg over the other. “Your affinity for the blood aspect in combination is particularly strong.”

He turns around to look at you, a sour expression on his otherwise pleasant face. “I never actually found out what blood does. So what you’re saying literally means nothing to me.”

This takes you aback, and you want to chuckle in shock. “You cannot be serious.”

He shrugs and looks away again.

Then you know he was being serious, and cough into your hand. “Blood is the aspect that engulfs connections and societal bonds. It is binding; what connects people together, what they connect to, what they love and hate and feel for.”

“... I thought feeling was a heart thing.”

“It is. But that is to do with emotional connection, it lacks logic or reason. Blood is an oath; a promise that binds people. It is, was, and will always be. If you feel strongly for something or someone and it becomes a part of you,  _ connected _ to you, just as you become connected to it; that is the true nature of blood. Though it typically is stronger between persons.”

He’s quiet, and slowly turns back to face you. “I don’t get it.”

“Alright. Allow me to explain it in another way,” you take a moment to collect your thoughts before explaining this concept further. “You had eleven friends during your game, as did I. Tell me, Karkat, who was it that everyone turned to when they needed someone to remind them of their purpose?”

“...”

“Who was it that gave them their purpose?”

“I th...” he starts to say, but then stops.

“Who held them together when their relationships and bonds to one another began to crumble?”

He looks down, contemplative, and it’s apparent that you’ve gotten through to him.

“It was the blood player they turned to when there was no one else who would hear them out, who would listen and advise when things seemed like they were about to crumble. It was the blood player that kept them together when they wanted so terribly to fall apart.”

“But they did,” he speaks quietly, barely above a breath.

You sigh, “they did. But you wanted them to stay together, to honour the friendships and relationships they had maintained up until the moment things fell to ruin. This is the nature of blood.”

“Blood is… Commitment?”

“Blood is commitment, and oath, and bond.”

He lets out a low and light chuckle and shakes his head. “You’re even worse than me, then.”

“I have my commitments, and oaths, and bonds. I am simply more refined as a seer compared to the broader nature of one such as a knight. You wish to protect the bonds you encounter, I wish to gain knowledge of them from a distance.”

“That… Makes a lot of sense, actually.”

You smile, happy to have been of assistance to your young student. “I’m sure it would,” you say with what you recognise as a pleased, almost trilling voice. You would feel embarrassed, but you honestly are too happy to care since you know Karkat would do the same in your position.

He seems far more relaxed, too. His foot is wiggling visibly beneath him and his expression has softened significantly, as if he is enjoying your company. “My friends used to always come to me with their problems. Normally it involved their love lives. Romance was, well,  _ is  _ kind of my thing?”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I love it. It’s always been just… Enjoyable. It’s something that I always believed connected people no matter who they were. An equaliser. We all have that innate desire to have someone treat us like we matter, and with romance it’s long term and meaningful and… So unbelievably good that it can make even the worst shit in the world feel like it’s that bit more bearable. It’s like this symbol for everything right in the universe, how despite everything, you’re not alone and you can be happy, you can make someone else that happy, no matter who you are or what you’ve been through.”

It sounds beautiful the way he describes it. Hopeful, youthful, full of love. You smile warmly down at him and nod, although you don’t agree with everything he says. You believe you can be happy without the need for romance to be involved. Sure, for many it is an attractive deal, to have someone want you as much as you want them. But it isn’t for you.

“So… Go on,” he urges, “tell me your troubles since apparently I’m this fated relationship mediculler.”

You cringe at that and shake your head. “That is none of your concern. I am fully capable of interpreting and dealing with my own troubles, relationship or otherwise, if there were any.”

“Do you like being alone?” He asks innocently enough.

“... It can have its benefits.”

He points at you accusingly. “That’s not really an answer.”

He has you there, and that makes you feel a small sense of pride for knowing that this perceptive individual is your descendant, knowing that he has come from you. “I prefer being alone to the alternative. But no. I am like anyone else. I do enjoy good company. For example, I am quickly coming to the conclusion that I am rather enjoying  _ your _ company.”

He smiles back at you rather gently, like he had expected you to say as much. “What would be the alternative?”

You hesitate, not sure if you’re comfortable with giving him a truthful answer. As always, you go for the lengthy approach. “Others typically feel more comfortable around individuals like ourselves. They can’t help it. Our unique blood colour allows us to offer people what they cannot obtain elsewhere; an outsider’s perspective. Which is why you have gotten along so well with your friends, since they varied across the hemospectrum, and despite being a ‘mutant’, they adored you.”

“Uhuh, now where’s this going?” He asks impatiently when you pause.

“If you would allow me a moment, Karkat,” you shake your head before continuing. “Some get rather too attached to the unique connection they get from us. Some will be rather insistent, regardless of whether or not you wish to proceed with them. I would much rather avoid this trouble.”

“Is that why you make yourself as obnoxious as possible? So you can keep people at a distance?”

“I would rather people did not invade my personal space just because they think it will please them,” you frown, close to turning bitter.

“... Has that… Happened?” He asked, more cautious, more serious.

Your face turns cold like stone, and you suddenly become aware that you have been lightly pressed against Karkat’s side, not with any kind of pressure or support, but noticeable. Tangible. You move away and turn your gaze elsewhere. “I would be appreciative if we changed the subject now.”

“Kankri…” he says quietly, and you think he is about to press you, but he keeps doesn’t. “I’m sorry.”

“Just be more aware of your line of questioning in future. It was partially my fault since I failed to warn you of that particular trigger. It was most foolish of me.”

He nods, and pulls himself a little farther from you. “I understand.”

You slowly reach up and place a hand on his shoulder, making sure he knows you are about to do. You pat him a couple of times before letting your hand fall down to your legs

He looks at you with concern, with pity and knowing, and you feel uncomfortable again, but for a new reason. “Do not look at me like that. I am not someone you should look at like that.”

He looks away, down to his crossed legs. “You could always talk to me if it bothers you. You can talk to me about anything that bothers you.”

“I know,” you say, “Of course you would say that.”

He rolls his shoulder and lets a leg fall out over the platform. “Well, yeah. It’s something that is obviously making you feel terrible, and I want to help you not feel completely terrible. As your friend, and your dancestor. But if it’s something I should back off from, just give me the word and I’ll back the hell off.”

“I have already given you the word to ‘back off’, Karkat.”

“That’s okay, then. Here’s me and my short ass, backing off,” he tilts his head, appearing just a bit smaller than before, looking at you with big bright eyes.

“If you must act out your nature, perhaps there is something you could offer assistance with,” you decide to throw him a proverbial bone given how much he seems to try and appease you.

He nods with a half smile quirking one side of his jaw. “Go on, then.”

You raise your chin, and close your eyes before speaking. “I have recently had an encounter, or rather, two related encounters that I would like to get your opinion on, if you are such an expert in the relationship department.”

“Huh,” is all he says for a moment. “Okay. Which quadrant?”

You open an eyes to glance down at him. “None. This is a relationship by means of a platonimacy. At least that was the impression I had gotten.”

”Okay,” he leans closer, resting his head in his palm, elbow against knee.

“We had recently had a rather pleasant and mutually beneficial conversation, that led me to meet with him a second time. Although, knowing him, I should have guessed it wouldn’t have gone as ideally as I had hoped. He couldn’t help himself, and ignored the concept of personal boundaries, as he has a tendency to do.”

“Did this asshole hurt you?” He asks with a mix of sympathy and accusation that makes your chest swell a bit.

“No no, quite the opposite. We are hardly something that radiates violence or invites it, given our sedative nature and stature. He just wished to get closer once instinct took over and I initially offered him little reason not to.”

His eyes narrow at you and his lips hold tight together. “You have some issues, bro.”

You get a short chuckle out of that, particularly since he referred to you as ‘bro’. It would seem that the humans had an impact on him. “You have much to learn about the way of things, Karkat.”

“Yeah. Apparently. So what happened.”

“I reacted severely and scratched him rather deep, and left before the situation escalated in another direction.”

“It was that Ampora asshole, wasn’t it?” He guesses.

“Indeed. Not someone I would normally choose to be associated with, but he surprised me with the way he had reacted that first time we talked.”

“He’s a needy pervert that cares about nobody other than himself.”

“That it would seem.”

“So what's the issue. Just avoid him and he won’t bother you.”

You hum, and look away.

“... Unless you  _ want  _ him to pester you again.”

“Karkat, tell me, what was your Ampora like?” You turn back to him.

“... Eridan?” He seems to think this over for a minute or two. “I remember two things about him. He was a murderer, and he was just a really lonely guy.” He shrugs this off.

“I see. Were you close, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“... I don’t actually know? I’m close with all my friends, but I get the feeling he was more attached to me than I was to him? Probably? Maybe I’m talking out of my ass. I do miss him, though, and the rest of them. If I could have any of them back, I would.”

“Mhm...” you pause to think a moment.

“Do you like him?” He asks you.

“Cronus?” You question, though you know who he meant. “I would never have believed it, but I do yes. He offered me a surprise recently, something I was not expecting -as surprises always go-“ you bite your lip briefly. “We talked before, and something happened that hasn’t happened before. I’m fully aware that most people aren’t mentally equipped to cope with the radical ideas I present in my monolo- conversations, and they take in most of what I have to say with disdain, if at all. I’ve grown used to it. But he smiled for some reason when I talked, as if I had said something that agreed with him. Nobody smiles when I talk, not unless they are doing so in mockery or absentmindedness.”

“You’ve made me smile,” he answers when you give him time to respond.

“Well, yes, we’re both engaged in what I can only assume is a mutually pleasant dialogue. But it isn’t the same as what it was with him; I would never consider you- Oh.” Oh.

“Oh?...”

“I… Seem to have reached an unexpected revelation,” you say, everything about yourself blanching. “I consider you… Familiar in relation to me. You’re my dancestor. Whilst he has no direct relation to me. Therefore, there is a difference.”

You looks at you as if you’ve just said something like Beforus was flat, or Alternia.

“Subconsciously, it would seem, I feel somewhat attracted to him,” you explain, reaching up to cup your lower jaw contemplatively. “Though perhaps on an intellectual or purely emotional level?”

“To the arrogant pervert,” he deadpans.

“I hadn’t considered it attraction until now,” you say quietly, drumming your fingers across your cheek. “Attraction is something I seldom feel towards others. There is someone I know I am attracted to, but this… This is a surprise.”

He huffs a short laugh, “don’t do anything about it, is my advice.”

“Hm?” You glance over at him.

“If someone like him ever finds out you want to give him the attention he’s looking for, he’ll never leave you alone.”

“Believe me, Karkat. I do not want to give him the attention he’s looking for,” you assure him sternly.

“He’ll expect it, though, if he finds out.” He shares a glance with you a second before shifting where he sits. “Look. I can tell this is going to be a bother for you to wrap your head around. And at the end of the day, I can’t tell you what to do, it’s your afterlife. I don’t know him well, and you, I have just a bit more of an idea. You want attention just as much as he does, only the two of you are on two difference frequencies. You can abandon all pursuits or inclinations, or you can talk it out with him. Either way you’re going to want to think this over for yourself, and work out how this could end up.”

“I doubt it will end well for either of us, truthfully.”

He raises his hands, “maybe, probably. I don’t know what exactly happened between you both, and that’s probably left as a private matter. But you know your options, you can ignore him and pretend none of this happened, or you can talk to him. Wherever those paths lead you, that’s probably the route you’re supposed to take.”

“That makes sense, yes,” you nod along, surprised by the wisdom your dancestor possesses even at such a young age. “What do you recommend I do, were I to seek him out again?”

He squints at you as if you’re talking another language he barely understands. “Do you trust him?”

You let your hands fall to your lap, “I trust that I can predict his character.”

He groans and performs an exaggerated gesture with his hands. “Not what I meant but fair enough. If you were to tell him something in the hopes he would keep it secret, would he keep your secret? Or if you told him he couldn’t do something, would you trust him to respect that?”

You nod once and slowly in understanding. You do have to wonder with this question, but as much as you wish it was one answer, you know what you believe deep down. “No.”

“Okay, take that into consideration.” He goes on, “trust and respect are two of the most important aspects of any relationship. If there is some lacking in either department, it’s not a healthy or productive relationship. Thankfully, the key to obtaining one, if not both of these things is communication; the bedrock of all relationships. If you ever want to be his friend, or anything more, you need to at least find common ground. And for the love of all that is not yet fucked, lay down some solid boundaries with him. If he at least knows he shouldn’t fucking touch you or cut you off or whatever, then you can learn to trust him. And let him speak, too. I know you love to talk, like holy fuckglobes, but you need to let him know you’re willing to hear him out too. Build up some respect for one another, it goes both ways.”

“I have my doubts that we could ever hold any real amount of trust or respect for one another. He considers me as nothing more than a mutant blood who would rather melt his ears off rather than put my mouth to what I can only guess he assumes is ‘better use’, and I view him as this misguided, half-baked brute that would rather lie to create the illusion of pleasure than pursue any real semblance of happiness. Neither of us is truly capable of trust for these reasons.”

He hums a thoughtful groan, and scratches his jaw, “I hear you. But you have to consider that if you ever want to be his friend, you’re going to have to trust him. You’ll never know if you don’t offer that opportunity for an understanding between you. Give him an inch, and if he wants to genuinely reciprocate, he’ll follow by example and offer you something in the way of trust. That’s just how that goes.”

“I… Don’t believe I will be able to make a trust offering of any sort.”

“That’s okay,” he says warmly, “trust isn’t supposed to come easy. Especially when past actions have given you good reason not to put faith in other people’s future actions.” He shifts closer and turns more in your direction, “do you trust me?”

You look him over, uneasy now that he is pressed lightly against you, consciously this time. You feel your skin on edge, tingling uncomfortably. “I trust in your sense of morality, and your inability to be truly nefarious.”

“Good. Now keep trusting me,” he lifts his hand and slowly moves it up, palm readying to connect with your cheek. You growl, inching away from him. “Trust me,” he repeats, and you want to, you really do. But that hand is so close, so big that you can feel it’s presence close to your face, your flesh. You’re about to warn him off and smack the hand away when he takes it back into his lap, and looks up at you with a tilt of his head. “See? Difficult, but not impossible. I won’t touch you, and you can trust me on that.”

You frown down at him, and rub your cheek absently. “I appreciate this lesson.”

“It’s not a lesson, it’s just a reminder that you can put a little faith in someone and have it turn out alright. I’m not saying go around like an idiot with your head up your ass and trust literally anyone and everyone, but just know that it’s possible to believe someone respects you.”

“You have been very fortunate to have grown up around those you can trust. Your friends must have valued you greatly,” you tell him.

He shrugs once again, “I spent the majority of my life terrified because I thought that all of my friends would turn on me if they found out about my blood.  _ Some of them more than others _ . It wasn’t just the fear of being culled or reproached, it was the fact that it would have been my friends that did it.” He stares over at the pit. “But yeah. I was fortunate, they didn’t care in the end, not a single one of them. When they found out, it was as if it didn’t matter, like it wasn’t even a thing. They never treated me differently.” He smiled.

“You were more than what you were,” you agree, supportive of this information.

“It was nice,” he goes on, “being a part of something.”

“I imagine it was. Like I said, you were most fortunate, despite the hazardous circumstances of your existence within such a brutal society. You had done well to make your mark.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Of course, Karkat. But there is no need to thank me for a few complimentary words. I simply wished to express my envy of your success. You deserve that at the very least for all you’ve been through.”

“Envy? Shut the fuck up, my life sucks. I’m one sorry ass motherfucker surrounded by varying levels of stupid.”

You just relax into the warmth surrounding the both of you, and so does he. The two of you spend what must have been a great deal of time just sitting there in that cave and talking. Eventually, Karkat had to return to the land of the living, and it was abrupt and somewhat sad for you. But you are glad you could both get some things off of your chests and enjoy one another’s company. You never realised how much you needed that.

You are not alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cronus’ pov.

The sand almost gives way from the pressure your back puts against it, as if it’ll pull you down and never release you. It shifts, damp from the tides so it molds and sticks to the form of your body. You stare up at the red sky, drumming your fingers loosely along the guitar you’ve been holding for a good while now. It makes this soft drum of chords, not enough to be called music, but soothing in their own way.

You sigh, and consider writing a new song. You could call it ‘Pretty Alone’ or, even better, ‘Pretty _and_ Alone’. That one makes you huff a laugh. You also consider writing one called ‘Bitch in a Red Sweater’ but that might be below you, or would it? Probably not. You could only hope he would hear it, his face would be priceless. 

Once more a sigh escapes you and you close your eyes as the setting sun warms your skin and, with the thick scent of salt on the wind, you feel at home.

You detect something in the atmosphere shift, like the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end and your flesh twitches and tingles. Someone is nearby, and getting closer. You’re about to open your eyes and pick yourself up when a shadow passes over you, blocking out that sweet sunlight your body enjoys. When you open your eyes, you admit you’re a little surprised to see who it is that’s decided to pay you a visit.

You sit up, not sure whether to smile or frown at the unexpected visit. “Porrim? What brings you here, doll?”

She folds her arms as she looks down on you with harsh lidded eyes, “you know as well as I do that word travels fast around here. And you have been busier than usual, haven’t you.”

You smirk and look down at yourself, “what gave it away?”

She tsks, and gives you this awful sour look. “Quite the smartass, aren’t we?”

You look up at her, and can’t really be bothered to stand. “Yeah, whatever. What have I been up to?”

“The usual, for the most part. Unrequited solicitations and unprecedented bullying of those lesser on your social ladder.”

“And since when did that bother you?”

“Since it involved Kankri.”

Your eyes narrow, “so what? Come here to slap me on the wrists? Or are you his apology party? Has to be one of them.”

“Apology,” she hisses, “he’s been so aloof lately, not talking to anyone except that loud little dancestor of his ever since he hung out with you. Now, stop me if you're sensing a pattern here somewhere,” she lifts her perfectly manicured hand.

You don’t like the way this sounds, because even for you it sounds bad. Making Kankri become a recluse is almost as bad as being caught bullying him. Which you haven’t done. “You accusing me of something here, or do you just want to riddle my head with shit I can’t be bothered hearing?”

“You did _something_ , I don’t know what, but with the reputation you’ve made for yourself, I can only guess, and guess what,” she leans down to level with you. “If what I’m thinking is true. It better not be.”

You glance down from the piercings on her face to the exposed cleavage she’s put on display, then when she flicks your forehead, you look back up at those fierce, dead eyes of hers. “I didn’t do nothin’,” you answer, offended. “I may have… Pressed a bit far in a direction he doesn’t like, but I do that with everyone.” You gesture wildly with your arms and hands. “That little prick fucking cut me, how about that? Fuckin’ claws cut up on my face and he just left, no damn apology or nothing.”

She stares you down, as if testing to see if what you’re saying is a lie or not. And of course it’s not a lie. “Everyone knows what he’s like, he makes that pretty damn clear. You shouldn’t have indulged him if you can’t handle what comes from him indulging you.”

“Aye, fuck you, Maryam.”

“No, I don’t think you will,” she says as if it’s supposed to physically burn you, which it does. Just a bit.

“Yeah? For the town bike, you’d think you would’ve had something with me, since you’ve banged everyone else already.”

“You are an eligible exception,” she taps your nose with the tip of her finger, delicate claw grazing the bridge. “Because there is nothing between us that would ever work for me. Ever. And the way you go about things, you’ll never have that experience with anybody, except yourself, of course. Now would that be worth it, Cronus? No, I don’t think so. So you better get used to the idea of being alone.”

She could be a cold bitch when she wanted to be, a dame after your own heart. You happen to disagree with her, though, you know you’ll get what you want eventually, just like most people get their desires if they try hard enough. You have no clue as to why so many people have found the ‘perfect’ relationships, or just get whatever the hell they want without even trying, like the universe owed them for whatever the hell was wrong with them. Universe never did you any damn favours…

“There’s no need to have that bitter look on your face, just accept the hand you’ve been dealt and get on with your afterlife. Pick up a hobby, keep that nose of yours out of trouble, especially around Kankri if you don’t want people to talk.” She picks herself up again and shakes off her dress. Her heels cannot be good in the san- Oh. She made a solid pathway. Great.

“I have hobbies, Alright?” You drum a couple of chords of your guitar.

“Uhuh, sure,” she flips her hair over her shoulder.

“And I think you’ll find I’ll do whatever I want. If I don’t, some other me will,” you reason. You just want to be happy. Doesn’t everybody?

You choose to ignore her. You’re not in the mood for dealing with other people, not for a while at least. You don’t even want to give her any of your attention for once, you know you’ll get nothing out of any effort you put in. It’s pointless. You would much rather work on your music and think about how nice the breeze feels this close to the sea. You’re a sensitive guy, after all.

“Just be careful, a scratch on your face will be the least of your concerns if I catch wind of something I shouldn’t,” she warns as she starts to leave.

“That’s hot,” you respond dismissively as she exits your line of vision. You would have just lay back down and gotten on with doing nothing but you hear her speak again, and not to you.

“Oh hey, you,” she says softly. “What are you doing here?”

The voice that responds has you turning your head, “Hello, Porrim. I would ask you the same thing, so not to offend you with my own presumptions given the history you have with private sessions with other individuals, but at the moment I don’t find myself particularly interested in whichever answer you give. Although, rest assured the thought will likely play on my mind, and I will assume only the best given that we are friends.”

“As for my reason for visiting, I believe that would be considered my own business and I don’t care to divulge such information as it is both private and personal. Now if you would be so kind, I would greatly appreciate you continuing on to another location and allowing me to follow through with my plans.”

You scoff, and turn back away from the two of them, though you can still hear them talking. In truth, you are still interested in why Kankri is here, and you kind of want to see where this goes. Or hear.

You listen to her whispering, too low for you to pick up on, and you can only guess she was bending over just to be more at Kankri’s height.

“I am not a wriggler!” He raises his voice to her, making you glance back. “I am perfectly capable of making a conscious decision on matters that are solely to do with my own life, or rather, afterlife. Whilst your concern is noted, I am not interested in being coddled.”

She hisses and stands straight, and you’re sure she wants to hit him for that, not hard or anything, just a little smack on the arm or the head. “Coddled? Seriously? I am trying to help you, and you can just be so insufferable sometimes! Why can’t you just tell me ‘okay’ sometimes like a normal person, or at least be less of a stick in my behind.”

You’re torn between telling Porrim that she could probably fit a tree in any orifice comfortably, and telling her to lay off on the friend-mom thing she has going. Mama could be hot, but watching her bitch to Kankri like he was her human child was more than a little disheartening. Kankri wasn’t helping either, with the way he takes on that role as her defiant, pubescent son. It makes you look away again and strum the chords of your guitar to try and distract yourself.

“Porrim, I would be grateful if you wouldn’t discourage or berate me in front of other people. It not only discredits me but forces me to react in a manner which is both tiresome and degrading to my character. I really do wish that you would be more aware of your words and actions around other people, as you can not only make them uncomfortable, but bring their social standing to ruin with just the slightest nudge of spiteful word choice. Please check yourself before uttering anything in public, otherwise you are just disgracing yourself and those forced to be around you.”

“Jesus…” She groans, “you know what? Fine. I’m going, and you can’t say I didn’t try to be your friend.”

After that the beach is silent, with only the sounds of your fingers playing at the guitar. You’re aware that Kankri is still there, you can feel him looking in your direction.

He quietly walks over to you; if you hadn’t been listening for his presence you wouldn’t have heard him. You just ignore him, playing the strings as if they are the most interesting thing in the multiverse.

“Hello, Cronus.”

You don’t answer or react, you want him to feel the absence of your attention. You want it to sting.

“I see you are quite engaged at the moment,” he shifts where he is standing. “I appear to be intruding upon a private situation, to which I would like to offer my sincerest regrets since I too have recently had unfortunate interruptions of peaceful contemplation. It is greatly tiring, in all honesty. I would not have returned had I not had something important I wished to discuss with you.”

Whatever.

“Cronus?” He starts to question, leaning down slightly, trying to catch your attention. “Cronus, what you are doing is rather rude.”

You turn away from him when he leans closer, more in front of you.

“Cronus. This is distressingly unproductive to our dialogue, I-“ he shifts around again and you just look away, as if you find the landscape fascinating. “Cronus!” He snatches you by the horn and pulls on your head to the side, making you hiss in pain. It takes you a moment to register what the hell is happening, glancing from his offending hand to his face. He stares a moment, and you start to snarl. How fucking dare he just grab you, by the horn of all places like you’re some common scum. 

His expression changes and he pulls away from you, removing his hand and staring at it as if he had just burned it.

You glare at him and pick yourself up, standing over his smaller stature menacingly.

He looks up at you, teeth showing, but not in an aggressive manner. “I apologise. I don’t know what came over me. I realise that my action just now was highly impolite, as well as hypocritical of my own past behaviour.”

You frown down at him, letting your guitar fall into the sand and disappear as you cross your arms. “Oh yeah?”

He tilts his head and looks away, holding his tongue for the first time in his life. For a minute, at least. “Yes. As much as I’m sure your own behaviour speaks against your own standards and ideals, I have come to a conclusion that I do so similarly. I have done a disgraceful act that reflects poorly upon the both of us and I do hope you could excuse such behaviour.”

You groan harder, confused. You really don’t know what to make of that. Kankri doesn’t apologise in any way, ever. It’s his thing to expect other people to just deal with him, or not. “The hell are you talking about now.”

The mutant blinks, “I only wanted to assure you that should you wish to continue engaging with me, I will be respectful of your boundaries, just as I’d hope you would respect mine.”

Huh.

“Would you accept my apology, Cronus?” He asked as if he was expecting a single answer.

You tilt your head, so damn unsure of what you’re supposed to do or say. On the one hand; he came back, someone _wants_ to be around you. On the other; twice this guy has basically attacked you. “I don’t know. You’re going to have to do a bit more convincing if you want me to believe you.”

This time he’s the one to fold his arms, looking you over. “What did you have in mind?”

Oh. Damn, he’s serious. “Su-“

“I expect a reasonable compromise.”

You huff, forced to smile. Worth a try. “It fuckin hurt, you know,” you remind him.

“I am aware that it would have hurt. Both times that I made physical contact with you… I just wanted you to know that I regret it, and that I would not in my right mind do that to someone.”

“Are you going crazy or something?” You retort.

He squints up at you, “I am in full control of my psyche, and do not appreciate this verbal dance you happen to be attempting. If you would give me your response to my apology, we can both move on with our lives.”

You shake your head, “even when you’re apologising, you’re so repulsive.”

“I am merely being thorough. I would rather know sooner if I had ruined a relationship I had wished to put investment into.”

“...” You look him over this time, horns to toes. “Go on.”

He half smiles, looking away, “I believe it is you who needs to ‘go on’. I am expecting an answer.”

You smirk down at him, all fangs. “And I am expecting you to give me a real apology.”

His smile leaves his face and you almost see a pout develop, but he steels himself before letting that expression develop. “If you insist. I am sorry that I hurt you, Cronus, both on this occasion, and the previous time. Is that satisfactory?”

You raise a brow and shrug, “I dunno, maybe if you got on your knees, I’d take it more seriously.”

“Fuck off, Cronus,” he says dryly.

You just laugh, surprised by his language, but pleased by the strange rapport you both seem to be building. When you look, you see the faintest smile on his face as well, like he’s enjoying this as much as you are. “Okay, fair enough. You’re forgiven, chief.”

“A wise choice,” he says. “Now, whilst I have your attention, I must inform you of some boundaries that I have since you are so keen on breaking basic social etiquette. I do not like being touched, Cronus.”

“I guessed,” you answer, rolling your shoulders.

“If you would be so kind as to refrain from touching me, that would make this friendship a great deal easier. Not that it is in any way difficult, I just find it triggering to make unexpected and or deliberate physical contact with another person, and I know you have a habit of invading the personal space of others.”

“And what if I did touch you?” You test.

He stares intently at you. “Let us simply say that you would wish you truly were dead.”

Oh. “Okay.” You say quietly.

“That was a joke, Cronus.”

“Ah…” you blink down at him. “I’d never know with you, chief.”

“Whether I would seriously harm you or whether I am capable of humour?” He asks with what is apparently genuine curiosity.

You chuckle, fins giving a slight flick. “Given your track record, both.”

He huffs a laugh himself, a smile on his face. “You will have to find out what I am capable of, won’t you?”

Your brows both arch, surprised by that statement. Was… that flirting? No, it couldn’t be. You scratch the back of your head and look away, “I guess I will.”

He chuckles at that in amusement, and turns to walk down the beach. “Would you join me?”

You watch him as he pauses to look back at you, waiting for your answer. “Where to?”

“Nowhere in particular. We could walk the coastline if you wanted, or take a trip to your planet, or-“

“The beach is fine. Whatever it changes into is fine,” you tell him.

He stares quietly a moment and nods, motioning for you to follow, and so you do, walking along by his side. “I also do not like to be interrupted. But this is more of a common annoyance than a trigger.”

“Okay," You tell him, pulling out a cigarette to tuck between your lips.

“Would that be a passive ‘okay’ or a serious ‘okay’?”

“Sometimes an okay is an okay, chief,” you don’t know what else to tell him. “You don’t need to read into everything.”

He hums and nods, “fair enough, I suppose.”

You can tell he’s holding back somehow on what he really wants to say. It’s not like him to not say everything on his mind. He was like a walking thesaurus or some petty but self righteous post you’d read online. “So…?”

“Hm?” He looks up at you as you both walk.

“Talk.”

He cocks a brow, “if you insist…” he looks odd across the sea before he answers. “When did you start playing that instrument?”

“The guitar?” You ask, more so questioning the fact he is acting like he cares about your hobby. “A while back. I just don’t play it around other people.”

“Oh?” He tilts his head back to you. “Are you nervous of judgement or do you just do it for your own amusement?”

“I- Kankri. What the hell are you doing?” You stop walking.

He stops too, and just stares. “... Whatever do you mean?”

“You’re acting really fucking weird.”

“Language,” he warns lightly.

“Kankri,” you press.

He holds a breath a moment, chest rising, before he lets out a deep sigh. “I am merely allowing you to have a word in on this conversation. Would you prefer I shoosh you so I may talk and you only listen like some underfed wriggler?”

You open your mouth to say something stupid, but shut it for your own sake. You squint at him, unsure of yourself.

“I thought not.” He announces, taking a step closer.

You take a step back, and you don’t know why. “Funny how you’re the one that decided he was mr high and mighty out of everyone we knew. You’d think you were the highblood here.”

He pauses, and holds his hands behind his back, giving you the most peculiar look. “I am far from a highblood.”

“Not right now you’re not,” You retort, a dumb smirk on your face.

He hums a little laugh, as if you’d caused some brief moment of enjoyment in this conversation for him. “You’re overestimating me.”

You roll your pale eyes and put the cigarette back into your pocket. “Yeah, maybe. Probably.”

“So this is the part where you ask me about one of my hobbies,” he prompts.

“Uh…” His hobbies? “I… Don’t know about any of your hobbies.” Does he even have hobbies? You look around as if the scenery will provide you answers.

“Really, Cronus.” He sighs. “I would have expected you to know at least something about me.”

“I mean… Talking?” That’s not a fucking hobby. “Messing with other people’s business?” You half joke, but that doesn’t seem to impress him at all. “Uh…Something wordy, so… Reading,” you click your fingers.

“You are correct,” he says blandly. “Reading is one of my hobbies, among other things.”

“Cool.” Bit boring. “So… What do you like to read?” You have never been in a worse conversation in your life.

“Most literature; both fiction and nonfiction.”

Neither of you is very good at this.

He seems to catch on that you’re dying inside, and offers you a way out. “I rarely have time for reading lately, sadly. It’s not much of a hobby anymore; moreso a memory I struggle to let go of. I’ve read everything the multiverse has to offer, I would only be repeating the process, and my time is better spent elsewhere.”

“You’d like to, though, right?”

“There is a possibility that you are correct in that assumption. But as I said before, I am much too busy to go over something so frivolous. I would rather spend my time enlightening the minds of our fellow dead and the living guests of these vast and complicated bubbles. It is far more satisfying to share some wisdom with the ignorant and naive.”

“Even if they don’t want to hear it?”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head, “progress takes time. You can’t give someone a peanut and expect them to have a farm the following night.”

You only hum, mulling that idea over. “Did you come back just to talk about guitars and books and stuff, or was there something you actually wanted from me?”

“You were the one who had approached me the first time, I had hoped you would initiate the dialogue. Unless you only wanted to tease me.”

“Hey, you technically started talking to me at first,” you point at him accusingly. “Waltzed right in between me and Meenah.”

“Although that statement is true, you fail to realise that I had not taken into consideration the possibility that you would enjoy yourself quite so much, nor would I have surmised that you would invite me for further discussion.”

You can’t argue with that, even if you want to. “Fair enough.”

“Excellent, we have established a point of reference. Now if you wouldn’t mind I have one question the keeps nagging at the forefront of my mind.”

“Shoot,” you figure it won’t be all that bad.

He glares at you a moment. “Please refrain from using such offensive slurs such as ‘shoot’, it could be highly triggering to those affected negatively by gun violence or gun related activities.”

“Okay.”.

“A simple ‘proceed, please”, or even ‘go on’ or gesture would have sufficed.”

“... Proceed, your highness,” you mock a bow, trying to hide the grin on your face.

He just huffs and shakes his head, “truly unbelievable.”

“Deal with it,” you tell him.

“Believe me, I am doing my best to do just that,” he tells you, stopping where he stands to stare at his feet, before looking straight at you. “Were you pleased with what I had to say before?”

You cock a brow. “How do you mean?”

His lips pinch together a moment before he answers. “I am referencing the first time we truly engaged in conversation, when you were attempting to involve yourself with Meenah. Your reaction to my intervention was quite irregular and I will admit serendipitousness on my part.”

“Oh,” you turn your head away, “that.” You give a shrug to delay your need to answer.

“You didn’t seem displeased. I am merely curious as to why.”

“Why, because everyone else can’t stand a word that comes out of your mouth?” You try to press him.

He only holds his ground, showing little in the ways of a reaction. “That is part of it, yes. But you are misinterpreting my line of questioning; I am asking simply out of a sense of genuine curiosity, that _does_ stem from past experiences with others, but also from your own past behaviour. We never got along, you and I; it’s no secret that you always looked down on me, whether for my blood colour or character I cannot tell, and I have my suspicions those feelings haven’t changed. I am just at a loss for a reason as to why your happiness was prevalent on that one occasion, in spite of how little you thought of me.”

It takes you by surprise how open he is, both in how he sees things and how he wants to know more. You never considered Kankri to be the self aware type, let alone have the kind of perception to know and accept that someone (specifically you) sees him as a lesser being. He’s got globes, you’ll give him that.

“... I…” you look away, stroking your well greased hair. You want to give him something for that, for his honesty, for being something you know you never could be, something almost admirable. “Okay. Maybe if I had your way with words, I’d be able to explain it properly. But it’s just… Feelings aren’t easy for me to put into words, you get me?”

His lips part, partly revealing his upper fangs. His expression is almost naked, like he hadn’t expected those words to come out into the salty air surrounding you both. You swear you catch the faintest hint of red blossoming across his face. “A way with words?”

You blink down at him, “yeah. Making everything sound pretty or whatever, like you’re doing this long ass song that you’re making up on the spot, but there’s no music. Obviously.”

“... Pretty.”

Fuck this is making you uncomfortable, especially since there’s a dubiously confused look on Kankri’s face. “Yeah… You just talk, and a lot of the time it’s just nonsense to me, but you always have everything together, like you’ve really thought about it. When’s the last time you fucked up a sentence? Like stuttered, or forgot something?”

His eyes flutter on quick blinks and his lips seal together again, jaw no longer slack.

“And then you don’t half ass the things you try to say. It’s all formal and eloquently spoken and… Kind of nice? Different from everyone else and all their exaggerated quirks that give you a headache to listen to.”

“... So then, you enjoyed what I had to say, simply put?” He’s still blushing.

“That time, yeah.”

“Oh.” He drums his fingers against his opposite arm, “In that case, I would say you have gotten your feelings across perfectly well, Cronus… Thank you.”

Your lips quirk upward at how soft he sounds; as if the words he uttered were private, for your ears only. You shrug, and turn away, ready to move off again. 

He follows your lead, walking quietly by your side for once, although that could mean any number of things. A quiet Kankri was always one to be cautious of, especially after everything you have both been through recently. You just walk and wait to hear if he’ll say anything.

“I had an unexpected yet extraordinarily delightful encounter with my dancestor before coming here,” he finally says after what feels like an eternity of you holding your breath. “Have you met him? Slightly smaller, rather similar in appearance, quite the foul mouth on him, tragically. He’s a difficult sort to miss.”

“Yeah, kind of. He ran away as soon as I tried talkin’ to him.”

He nods, tilting his head towards you. “He has his own sign.”

“I noticed.” A grey one, if you remember correctly. “Weird how he got one, even though he’s a mut-“ you glance over at Kankri, seeing him give you the ‘choose your next words carefully’ stare.. “Not on the spectrum.”

This doesn’t exactly make him happy, but he seems appeased by your change of word choice. “It is indeed ‘weird’, I’ll admit, but not for the same reasons as you perceive. My dancestor was hatched into a barbarous society that would have killed him simply for the fact he was different, as they did with my Alternian personification. What I find ‘weird’ is how Karkat gained a sign from the events that transpired. It is a simplification of the chains that were used to bind his ancestor, rendered into a symbol of suffrage and resistance. But how could he have known that? Mileneas had passed since his execution, and I doubt any of his followers would have survived so long, even if Meulin’s Alternian self did what she could to pass on his story. It just perplexes me.”

Oh, huh. “Maybe… Someone survived to make sure he got the memo.”

“I considered that. But if someone had been there to give him his sign, why hadn’t they stuck around to ensure his survival if they cared enough to guarantee he received something as trivial as a sign?”

“Dead?” You offer a solution, perhaps not the nicest to hear, but at least it’s something.

“That is certainly a possibility, if it weren’t for the fact that they didn’t allow adults on Alternia, unless they were jade bloods.” He pauses, and then his eyes widen. “Well that must be it, then. That, or the first guardian had some hand in it all, and I suppose first guardians always do. As much as it pleases me to know that despite all the odds there was some chance of survival in that life, it’s frustrating to know that it was dictated by the hand of a being that had ultimate control over fate itself. It really makes you wonder what the point of it all was.”

Wow, doom and gloom from Mr Holier Than Thou. “I mean, was there a point?”

He frowns at nobody and nothing in particular. “For our generation? Not really. We were a means to an end, a spark to kickstart the bonfire of future generations. A failed experiment that required fresh test subjects. Our time in the spotlight is over, and confinement to eternity in these godawful, repetitive bubbles is our punishment for not being successful in fulfilling the cosmic promise we all muttered in agreeing to play that fucking game.”

“... Why do we not talk more often…”

He mocks laughter, “human sarcasm, I see. Some might consider that rude, if they weren’t accustomed to such an attitude, or the character displaying it.”

“You’re the one that’s being rude, making everything sound so depressing. How can my delicate heart handle this kind of crushing blow?”

He purses his lips faintly, and stares directly at you. “Now I believe you are making fun of me.”

“Just teasing,” you tell him.

“... In the event I had said something that had been taken as upsetting or even triggering to your sense of hopelessness or the overbearing nature of this reality, I do apologise. It wasn’t my intention to make this life of ours seem unbearable.”

“It’s not,” you shrug. “Well, actually, how would you react if I said it did upset me?”

“Then I could only apologise, yet again,” he pauses, seeming to consider something with a knowing look about him. “And explain to you at great length why I was wholly wrong to express myself, and then inform you of why I am entitled to speak as I wish and ask that you consider adjusting your perspective to be more maturely considerate and open minded.”

This bastard knows how to play the game. “... Nah, I’m good, chief.”

“Such a shame, I was looking forward to that particular essay.”

You roll your pale eyes at him. “I’m pretty sure you look forward to all your essays.”

“You are correct,” he almost sings the words with a smile, which only serves to make you smile at the smug little bastard. He even starts walking slightly ahead of you. “Have you spent any time with your own dancestor? I believe Eridan is his name, if I remember correctly.”

“Tiny guy with the hair and the glasses?”

“You are by no means tiny, therefore I doubt he is. He may be smaller than you, given the age difference, but I suspect you are exaggerating.”

“Eh,” you shrug. “He’s adorable.”

“That is quite the disrespectful and problematic way of describing your young Alternian iterat-“

“Nope. My dancestor, not yours, I’ll describe him however I feel like. Not gonna sway on this.”

He looks like he’s fuming on the inside, “iteration.”

Man is he petty and persistent. How the hell haven’t you both become friends sooner?... Are you even friends? “Hey, Kankri, are we-“ Hold up. Don’t ask him that. That is a terrible question to ask. You do _not_ want someone like him looking down on you, or pitying you (as much as you’ve allowed those fantasies to run wild in the past).

His thick brows furrow, and he stops walking, standing in front of you with folded arms. “Continue your line of questioning.”

You look away, twitching your fingers in on themselves at your sides. You’ve gotten too comfortable and blurted out something you shouldn’t have and now you’ve no choice but to make it awkward.

“‘We’ was the last thing you said, if you needed a friendly reminder,” he has this intent stare on you, almost like a predator staring at prey.

“Nothin’,” you try.

“If you felt you had to begin mentioning it, it is something you must now tell me, since you had already begun.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, “friends.”

You glance over at him to see what his reaction is, and you see that at least his expression isn’t as intense as it was. “I see. Well, in that case the answer is simple. Yes, I would consider you my friend, just as I would say you may consider me yours. Am I correct in believing so?”

“... I guess.”

“You either do or you do not, it is not so difficult a concept that you cannot know which is your answer.”

“Yes,” you say, startled. You do think he’s your friend, he’s been there for you more than anyone else has after all.

He nods, “you have your answer. We are indeed friends.”

You want to die. Again. “Don’t start, I know it was a dumb fuckin’ question.”

“I said nothing of the sort.”

“You’re thinkin’ it, that’s enough.”

“I was not aware you were a mind player.”

You roll your eyes, “oh, shut up. It was dumb, we both know it. Let’s just not, okay?”

“Very well.”

“Good.”

He looks to be considering you a moment, and you hate that calm contemplative look he’s giving you, because it’s a positive look, almost like appraisal and as much as you want to believe it is something appealing and attractive, you know he would never reciprocate something as carnal as attraction.

“You haven’t changed since we last talked,” he says softly, “before the scratch, I mean.”

You scowl at him, “I think you’ll find I have changed quite a bit since then.”

“Ah, yes, of course you have changed in some aspects; such as your belief in magic, and your newly acquired epiphany of humanity and your relationship to it, not to mention the hair, you’ve severely changed your hair, and glasses.” He chuckles quietly, as if to himself. “I will admit that a great deal has changed about you, but merely on the surface. However, it is apparent to me that you are still the same as you were in terms of where you started mentally.”

“... Excuse me?”

“I did not mean that in an offensive way, let me assure you,” he tilts his head away. “What I had been so poorly trying to convey was that you are not as much of an asshole as others perceive you to be. Your attitude is akin to someone that has become accustomed to constant reproach. I can still see something there that was there all those sweeps ago, I may not be able to quite place it, but it doesn’t discourage me from maintaining a connection to you.”

“As nice as that is, I _am_ an asshole. It’s my thing. I know I’m an asshole, and so do you, otherwise you wouldn’t act the way you do around me.”

“You have qualities that are undesirable, true, but if I thought you were someone I couldn’t handle I wouldn’t be here, would I?”

“You’re scared of me.”

That shuts him up for a solid minute, and all he has to do it scowl at you. “I am not afraid of you,” he finally says.

“You kind of are.”

“I am not.”

“Then why are you being nice to me?”

For once, he seems to stumble for what to say to that. All you can do is stare at him with a taut expression. You really don’t know why he’s being so damn nice to you, even if you’ve shared some kind of rapport. 

“Allow me to answer your question with another question,” he murmurs, gesturing towards you in a singular vague notion with his hand. “Why haven’t you made an active effort to flirt with me as you do others?”

You frown in response. “Because there’s no point, I know you’re not interested.”

“True, and I appreciate that you recognise that.”

You gesture wildly, “that doesn’t answer the question!”

He just tilts his head at you.

You groan loudly, and shake your head. “Don’t do this. I can’t take it, alright? I’m sick of people treating me a certain way because of one dumb fuckin’ reason or the other. Is it my fault sometimes? Maybe. Is it other people’s fault? Probably! Just give me a reason why suddenly we’re getting all buddy buddy, other than the fact that maybe it’s just amusing to you.”

“Have you considered that perhaps there is a chance I happen to like you?”

“You don’t like anybody.”

“That is false. I do like you, despite the attributes to your personality that aren’t so appealing to me.”

“ _Sure_ you do,” you told your arms.

“Do you believe I am mocking you with my presence? I assure you I am not. I place my time in high regard, given that I am misplacing my principles or obligations by staying here to debate this fact with you should speak for itself.”

You eye him with suspicion, “why?”

“I will leave that for you to interpret,” he tells you plainly.

You just make a ‘what?’ gesture with you hands and then flatten your palm against your face. “You are terrible, you know that right?”

“I wouldn’t say so, no.”

You laugh, unable to stop yourself. “Right, right. I give. Just, don’t lie to me, okay? If you’re playing some sort of game, then stop.”

He nods, eyes closed. “I promise that I do not regard this as a game, or you any less a being than what you are. We are just two people engaged in conversation, nothing more and nothing less. If anything, I should be worrying that you are the one to be using me for something nefarious. Although, I have reason to believe you are confused at this current time more than anything else, given how quickly you jumped from one opinion of me to another.”

“Furthermore, I would like to say I fully recognise that this erratic behaviour could be due to embarrassment given the possibility of intimidation on your part by the way I apparently speak, including your own lacking in the way of communication. Not that I think you’re incapable of speaking properly. There is just a clear distinction between the both of us and yet in spite of this we are both actively contributing to making this relationship as easy as possible for ourselves. Neither of us is positively experienced in the ways of intimacy- platonically, mind you, although given that I have brought it up, romantically and sexually, I suppose, and this entire arrangement will just have to be taken at a slow and steady pace in order for either of us to gain the full benefit of it.”

“Hey. Fuck you.”

“Did I say something you disagree with?”

“Why do you do that?” You asked him, “say some terrible shit to people you’re supposed to be friends with.”

He doesn’t have an answer for you.

“Does it even occur to you that the things you say are hurtful?”

“I would say the same to you,” he accuses.

“Hey, don’t try that shame tactic with me, it’s overplayed and I know I say a lot of stuff that might be too sensitive for some people’s ears. You’re suggesting I would ‘use’ you in some ‘nefarious’ way, I can only guess what that means, and a big fuck you is all I have to say to that. Then the shit about being intimidated by you? Seriously? Nah, like hell I’d ever be intimidated by someone like you, mr five feet of word dumps vantas.”

“Your own tactics of shaming me are rather poor. Although, I do consider the fact that you seem to genuinely deny any intent of harm to me reassuring. Even still, I have heard some of what you’ve said to others when you thought no one else was nearby to bear witness to your actions. What I have heard and seen has been quite distressing to say the least.”

“... Like, okay. Kankri, that’s fucking creepy.”

“What do you mean?”

“The watching.”

“... Oh?... I do it quite a lot.”

“You… Stalk me.” You don’t know what the hell you have to say about that piece of information.

“Firstly, I do not stalk, I observe from a safe distance so as not to interrupt or bring unwanted attention to myself. Secondly, you are not a primary subject of mine, rest assured. If you were the only one, _I_ would admit that is ‘creepy’.”

You stare at him in bewilderment. He genuinely doesn’t know. “No, Kankri. That’s weird. How are you not getting this? Just sitting and watching people when they don’t know you’re there, that’s weird.”

“I disagree. I think they would react terribly if I were to observe from a noticeable distance.”

Okay. Kankri is a psychopath. Cool.

“... I believe this would be my cue to take my leave,” he says after a moment of staring, eyes slightly wider than usual, as if he was hyper aware of something.

“No, no, hang on a second,” you try, but he seems insistent on leaving you, walking off with a short wave as the landscape changes around him. “Kankri.”

He’s gone before you even have a real chance to stop him, and you probably wouldn’t if you did. If he wants to come back, he can, and he’s not even that difficult to find if you wander around enough.

You’ll meet again, you know it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think and if you'd like me to continue this. It's honestly just something I've been writing for fun and to keep my brain active, but finding crokri isn't the easiest once you've read through everything, so I thought I'd share.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cronus' pov

You don’t want to acknowledge how much time you’ve invested looking for the younger Vantas. Not any Kankri you’re familiar with; the dancestor variety, and not just any; the living one.

It’s taken you so much time to ask around, person to person, variation of dead reality to another. You weren’t sure you could do it, but the kid had to pass into a bubble sometime, and like everybody knows; word travels fast here.

You find yourself in a place that you assume is prospit, but there are sugar cubes everywhere and waterfalls leaking from some of the taller golden buildings. Prospit always hurt your eyes, to be honest, so you hope the guy is willing to leave.

“Hey, shitclown!” You hear from one of the balconies. “I heard you were looking for me.”

You look up and see Karkat leaning over the bright railing, glaring down at you like he’s spotted a viper in the grass. “Yeah, pretty much.”

He points with his thumb to his right, where there is a stairway up into the building. You just nod and make your way up. When you move inside, it’s no longer prospitian, but something like a human respiteblock- you mean- bedroom. There are posters on the walls with humans on them, there’s a computer and a bed and… Cakes?

You finally take notice of the other person in the room, he isn’t hard to miss, given how he’s practically radiating with a certain appealing energy, not unlike Kankri does. Though, the look he’s giving you makes you want to shrink. Like Kankri, he may be small but damn you don’t want to mess with that.

He paces slowly across the room, yellow eyes never leaving you even for a moment. “This better be about Kankri, because if it’s not and I’m just another stepping stone for you I’m leaving and letting him know what you’ve been up to. Not that he wouldn’t have heard about this by now given the snowball effect you’ve created with all these dead assholes. Do you know who told me you were looking for me? A dead Nepeta. This  _ better _ be about Kankri.”

“Whoa there,” you raise your hands, trying your best to smile about this. “Don’t know who this Nepeta is and why that’s such a big deal,” she’s probably someone cute, you imagine, “but I  _ am _ here about Kankri.”

He looks you over briefly and nods, “okay. Good.” He seems to relax just a bit, appearing far less compressed, just a bit less… Aggressive? Yeah.

“What’s with the location?” You ask.

“Reminds me of a friend. Now, don’t change the subject. Why do you want to talk to me about Kankri?” He moves over to sit on the bed, staring up at you.

You get it into your head that you should go sit with him but as soon as you start to walk over you hear him growl at you in warning, making you pause. You frown, but concede, you don’t want to mess with another Vantas, especially if Kankri finds out you pissed him off. “I heard that you two talk,” you explain, “a lot. I just thought you could help me with something.”

He folds his arms and drums his loose fingers on the opposite black sleeve. “With what exactly?”

You pinch your lips together and rub the back of your neck. You really can’t believe you’re reduced to this, not just asking for help from someone so much younger than you, but someone of his… social standing. Yeah, you’re positive the both of them would skin you dead if they knew you were thinking that. “Is he like… Pissed at me?”

That takes him by surprise, it seems, since his brows pop right up. “Why do you think he’s pissed at you?”

“I dunno,” you nearly whine, but control yourself. “He just left while we were talking and I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Okay… Do you think you said or did anything that pissed him off?”

You suck the air in through your teeth and scratch the back of your neck. “I don’t think I did. Maybe? I say and do a lot of stuff that pisses people off.”

He very slowly nods, “right… Well, he hasn’t mentioned anything to me about being mad at you, if that helps.”

“I guess,” it doesn’t really.

His expression changes, like he’s decided here and now that you aren’t so much of an annoyance. Well, you can tell you still are, but he seems to be more tolerable of you. “Why do you care so much?”

Your brows knit together as you stare down at him. “Why wouldn’t I care?” You defend, not liking where this is going. You really are beginning to hate how people seem to insinuate you’re up to no good, especially when you know what that then leads to.

“He likes you,” he admits, “it’s none of my business but I don’t like the idea of him investing effort into being your friend only for it to be for nothing.”

“You’re right, it’s none of your business,” you tell him.

He sighs and rolls his eyes, “I get it. I’m overstepping my bounds by being a dick about this. I understand that this is a you and him thing, and I’m not about to play into the auspistice field. But you have to understand the fact that you’ve been seeking me out for my opinion, and my assistance. I’m going to act in the best interest of my friend, not you. I don’t know you.”

You squint down at him, “fair.”

“Glad we cleared that up,” he leans back, scratching his arm. “I don’t want to be a douche, okay? But I gotta know if you actually give more than a fleeting fuck about him. It’s fine if you don’t, it’s your life and I can’t stop you from being yourself, but your answer matters.”

“...”

He groans and shakes his head. “You know what, it doesn’t fucking matter. I think you already know of the consequences of your possible actions. I’m not here to play lusus.”

You huff down at him, amused very slightly by how much he reminds you of the old Kankri, back when he was younger and had more temper tantrums. It’s cute. “He doesn’t treat me like everyone else does.”

He glances up at you attentively. “Oh?”

“I don’t know. He just made me feel like I wasn’t… The way I usually am with people.” You shrug, unsure of how to put it. “It was nice.”

He blinks, and a little half smile creeps up his lips. “Really?”

“Yeah?”

He gives a short huff of a laugh and nods, “I’m sure he’d appreciate it if you told him that yourself.”

“Nah. He probably wouldn’t,” you tell him, “he’s not a sentimental guy.”

“Not around most people, no. But he’s still a person with feelings, and telling him that is the right way to go about things if you want to stay on his good side, at the very least. I think he’ll find it pretty touching, actually.”

“... You think so?” You ask sincerely.

He nods with a smile.

“Alright,” you smile back, “any other advice?”

“Keep your distance.”

You flinch back, “what?”

He leans forward slightly, “he’s nervous when someone gets too close to him. You’ll just discourage anything positive if you don’t keep a distance from him.”

“What like a restraining order kind of distance.”

“Shut the fuck up, you undulating assfairy. He is triggered by touch, and the threat of touch. Not his bullshit use of the word ‘trigger’, an actual trigger. Get it?”

“I know he doesn’t like it,” he’s made that more than clear.

“That’s fine then,” he lifts his hands slightly in submission. “It’s just important.”

You’re not sure what to do after he says that. You just stand there with a sense of awkwardness in the air.

“You can sit down if you want,” he gestures to the space on the bed beside him, and, with a reasonable degree of caution, you go and sit beside him. He seems relaxed enough even with you sitting there, as if you weren’t even there. “I’m not stupid, I know you have more to say. Or ask. So, go on.”

You hum down at him and do your best not to break out with your usual banter. You don’t want to start anything, but it’s just become so natural to you that you have to actively repress it. “Okay. Well, does he talk about me?”

“Among other things, yes,” he nods.

“What does he say?”

He shakes his head. “What are you hoping he says, dude?”

“I don’t know,” you pout.

“He doesn’t talk shit about you, if that’s what you’re worried about. And he isn’t secretly besotted, either. We just talk, and offer each other solutions to our questions and problems.”

“And you can stand that?”

“I have to tell him to cool it sometimes but otherwise yeah, he may be an inconsiderate, spiteful prick but he’s alright really once you get past all the… You know.”

“Oh, I know,” you smirk, looking away. “He talked about you, too, by the way.”

“Uhuh?” He cocks a thick dark brow.

“He’s like… Really proud of you. Like it was kind of sweet the way he talked about you, like you were his kid.”

“Oh,” his face flushes. “I mean…”

“Didn’t think he could be like that,” you admit.

“I guess he hasn’t come across a post scratch version of his- ancestor? Yeah? Hasn’t come across _ that  _ before, and he’s familiarising me a bit much, plus there’s the whole confusing fact that I’m over two sweeps younger than him, at least physically.”

“You two are pretty similar, honestly.”

“I guess,” he leans back. “That’s just how genetics work, I guess. I should know, I’m basically god. I fucking cloned myself and my friends and created a universe. Jegus that was a mess.”

“Yeah, Kankri did that, too, if I’m remembering correctly.”

“That explains everything, then,” he grumbles out.

“What d’you mean?”

“Why all of your group are kinda idiots slash fucknuggets. Well, most of you. If he was the one that dealt with your grub selves, I’m not surprised you all ended up the way you are.”

“Whoa. That’s a loaded statement right there, Tantas.” Tiny Vantas. Tiny ass Vantas. Whatever.

“I’m not saying I did any better, I probably fucked up my friends and our ancestors somehow,” he shudders. “Fucking grubs… All wanting attention… Or flesh, I really couldn’t tell which.”

“Both,” you offer.

He laughs at that, “yeah, most likely.”

You just laugh with him, because the thought of it just amuses you. Then the thought of Kankri having the deal with that makes you laugh a bit more. Man, that would’ve been great to watch. Then again, he might have handled a bunch of grubs well, like a little grub army listening to their Marshal Priest.

“Your name’s Cronus, right?” He asks just before a silence falls over you both.

“Don’t wear it out,” you shoot back at him. “But seriously, you can wear it out.”

He just gives you a credulous look as he speaks, “just making sure I remembered right.”

“You can call me whatever you want,” you wink, unable to resist.

He hums and taps his claws rhythmically along the sheets, drawing your attention. You’re sure that if he put enough effort in, he could rip the cloth apart with those claws of his. “I was going to come up with some clever response, but I don’t think you’re worth the effort.”

“I can be,” you try again, smirking.

He frowns at that, eyes thinning, “stop it.”

“Relax, I’m just playing,” you tease.

He growls this time in a sharp warning that has you moving away an inch. This seems to surprise him a bit, as he drops the attitude to look you over with a vaguely confused expression, like he hadn’t expected his warning to have any real effect.

“Okay, okay, no need to go feral on me. You Vantas’ just love playing that card,” you groan.

“Maybe that’s a you problem,” he bites back.

“Isn’t it always,” You retort with a sigh.

“How about you stop being a terrible sack of shit? Have you considered that? Maybe then you wouldn’t have to go asking someone several sweeps younger than you how to not lose what I’m going to assume is your only friend.”

Ouch.

“By the pathetically offended look on that abysmal thing you call a face, I see I’m getting through to you,” he says in a higher voice, “I am not your ‘friend’. You mean literally nothing to me. I let you find me as a fucking curtesy for the fact you might not be so terrible as I’ve been so far lead to believe. You have some issues, man. You need to get a grip of yourself, and figure your life out. And do not  _ ever  _ presume you can flirt with me. I am barely willing to talk to people nowadays let alone allow that kind of half hearted shit, just because it gives you some sense of pleasure from the whole experience. Fuck you. Don’t you do that to me, and don’t you dare do that to him. I am not someone you can look down on, not unless it’s in a literal sense. Small as I am, as pathetic as I may appear; I have faced people underestimating me all my life, so I know just how to deal with people like you.”

“Glub,” you mutter in response, unable to suppress instinct.

“Yeah, glub is fucking right, bulgemush,” he frowns. “Don’t think I don’t understand that shit. Your fucking descendant made sure of that.”

“Eridan?” That makes your fins perk.

“... Yeah. Your slightly less of a prick Ampora.”

You scowl at that, “he literally killed people.”

“Yeah,” his eyes widen, staring directly at you. “Really puts things into perspective when you are actually  _ worse _ than a murderer.”

You pout, lowering your head, “okay. Ouch. That’s salt in the wound.”

“Oh cry me a goddamn river, fucksack,” his arms cross tightly at his chest and he looks away.

You look away too, not too sure what to say. You’ve had rejection, and people telling you that you’re garbage, but yeah, this sucks. Especially since he looks like Kankri, and sounds like him a bit, like he’s someone you really didn’t want to fuck things up with. Holy shit you are terrible at making friends. “Okay. Look.”

He glances back over at you, still looking pissed but at least he’s listening.

“As much as it hurts to say this. You’re right. I can be a bit… Insistent with the way I am, and it’s not for everyone.”

“I think the record shows it’s not for anyone.”

“Hey,” you groan, fins tightening back down against your neck. “I’m trying to not be a fucksack here.”

“Why.” he demands with a growl.

“Because I know you’ll tell him,” you admit. “And I don’t want you to tell him that I… You know.”

“Flirted with his kid descendent after asking for advice on how to fix your relationship with him.”

“Yeah. That.”

“I am absolutely telling him, no matter what you say or do from here on out. If you want to develop your relationship, you will do it with effort and care. Not with flapping along like a fish out of water waiting for someone to pity you enough to throw you back into a good situation.”

You open your mouth, but pause before speaking. “-okay, first of all, excellent comparison.” You stretch your violet fins for show. “Secondly, please don’t tell him. I even said please.”

“First of all; I know,” he snarks back, “secondly; clean up your fucking act and you won’t have to beg.”

“I can’t believe you're being such a horrible person. Here I am, being all polite when I don’t have to, and your figuratively spitting all over my etiquette.”

“Etiquette!” He snaps, gesturing wildly with his hands. “Oh, because you used the word  _ please _ ?! Holy fuck! Give the man a prize!” Yeah, there’s a spark of Kankri in that expression. “Do you even hear yourself talk? Oh my god, how the fuck does he put up with this? No way does he let you talk to him like this! If he does, human Christ riding a unicycle, he needs serious help because he’s become so disillusioned with what a healthy relationship is supposed to feel like that he’ll accept the bottom of the barrel piece of mushy shit. I know he’s a sociopath and all but fuck! I refuse to believe even he doesn’t tear you apart for the shit that spews out of that waste orifice of yours!”

“He really does, honestly. He’s terrifying when he wants to be.”

“Well thank whatever horrorterrors now plague the heavens above! My ancestor has globes!”

Your brow perks at that, and you give a soft laugh. He’s kind of funny, annoyingly loud and raspy but still funny.

He makes a noise like a cross between a groan and a sigh, and shoves your shoulder enough to push you a bit, but only because you allow it. You suspect he wouldn’t be able to push you if you offered any real resistance. Then again, you never know with mutants. They were always full of surprises. “I’m telling him. I’m telling him only what I believe he needs to hear from someone who will tell the truth, anything else I’ll leave for you to say… You like him, I can tell that much. But as I said to him, any relationship is a two person job, you need to invest in him, actually care and put effort into making sure he’s happy, but not being stupid.”

“Sounds more like some romance than a friendship. You trying to set us up?” You wiggle your eyebrows.

He stares at you a moment, “no. I am setting up the foundations for a basic ass stable, healthy relationship that won’t crash and burn because I actually don’t want him, or you for that matter, to remain alone in the universe. From what I hear, you two have a connection, something drawing you together for whatever reason. It’s something not horrible unlike the rest of your god awful personalities. You should care about that. It sucks being lonely, if you have the chance to be with someone and be happy with them, to see them happy too, that’s all you need in life. Especially when you have an eternity to ponder over how miserable you actually are.”

You sigh, and run a hand through your thick black hair. “How do you suggest I make him happy? I’m willing to try, because it’s nice, you know, seeing someone actually pleased to be around me.”

“Well,” he rubs at his chin thoughtfully. “Stop acting like you want to constantly get into people’s pants for starters.”

You laugh at that, “nah. That’s my thing.”

“Well, don’t try it with me or him. I mean, you can flirt with him if you want, just don’t expect anything back.”

“You realise he’s probably flirted with me, right?”

“No. How would I know that?” He frowns, “and I don’t believe you.”

You shrug, “he did. I was actually impressed.”

He hums, “even if he did, that’s irrelevant. The inner workings of Kankri’s mind are a mystery to all of us. And I think he likes it that way.”

“True,” you nod.

“I don’t know the whole of it, so I won’t go around blabbing about shit I can only speculate on. Just… Be careful with him, okay? He… It’s complicated. But let him lead, unless he gives you the okay otherwise. You’ll lose him if you force him.”

“Force him,” you grind out.

“I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it.”

“Why do people keep insinuating that I’m- that I would- I wouldn’t! I have never crossed that fucking line, and I know I wouldn’t. I am not that, and I never will be,” you snarl at him, finally snapping at all the horrendous accusations you’ve had to hear from people. You make people uncomfortable, you invade their personal space and touch them in vaguely inappropriate ways but you’d never touch anyone like that, you wouldn’t be that kind of person, and it pisses you off so much that it’s become something people expect of you.

You glare down at Karkat, seeing him shrink just a bit, eyeing you hesitantly. “Maybe it’s the attitude you carry around with you. Like I said, I don’t know you, so I’m not used to what you’re like. If other people are making shitty assumptions of you repeatedly, doesn’t that imply it’s something you’re doing to give them this idea about you. If so, maybe you should think about it and try to change this aspect of you if it’s ultimately causing you to feel negative about yourself.”

“Maybe it’s just that everyone else is objectively horrible, consider that, wise guy?”

He shrugs, and moves away from you.

“... At least you make it more obvious you’re scared of me more than anything else,” you groan.

“I’m not scared of you,” he hisses, too low to be genuine.

“Uhuh. Kankri said the exact same thing.”

He glares up at you, “if you must know, I am feeling a bit uneasy because there is not only an angry highblood I can’t exactly pacify without feeling wrong inside, but this specific highblood is an adult. Do you fucking realise how uncomfortable I’ve been around you and your group? I can hold my own if push comes to shove, but I am not even seven and everything I’ve ever been taught is telling me to be on edge.”

“Huh.” You tilt your head at that. “So you are scared.”

“I prefer  _ strategically wary _ .”

“Okay.” As much as you know he hasn’t really settled out of a ‘wary’ state since you entered the room, you can’t help but see someone that has gone out of his way to assist you, even if he isn’t doing it out of compassion for you. It’s at least admirable to you, knowing as little as you do about Alternia. Your dancestor may be cute, but this was a whole new level.

“Pushing negative shit onto other people, even if it’s the truth, isn’t going to make things better,” he tells you quietly. “There’s nothing else I can tell you that’ll be more helpful than that fact.”

Before you can object, he stands and stares at you, barely an inch or two taller than you while you sit. He looks like he’s going to say something, but when he opens his mouth and nothing comes out, he shakes his head and leaves the room. Then you aren’t too sure what you’re supposed to do.

Wander around, you guess.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kankri's pov

You don’t know how to feel. Angry? Hurt? Lonely? It’s one of those at least. You’re not entirely sure which part of the information you’ve been relayed strikes you the most, but you do know that you probably shouldn’t be around Cronus Ampora for a while, not unless he wants some new scars.

You do the only thing you can do when you’re angry and unable to vent; you head to the shooting range. Surprising, yes? Few people know you as a violent person, or even a gun person, given your views and preaching. The act of cleaning your guns and testing them out has always been therapeutic for you, just as much as a good book can engage you.

You must have spent hours there, too many to count, just loading up gun after gun and aiming down the range. You’re not the greatest shot. You always preferred a scythe as your strife specibus, but guns have always been that little bit more liberating, exhilarating almost. They help you blow off steam and detach yourself from reality when you’re stuck on something you don’t want to think about.

“Hey there, chief.”

You freeze when you hear him. At least he doesn’t sound pleased with himself in any way, you don’t know if you and your AR-15 could handle him if he thinks everything is well and dandy.

“Okay… Guess you’re giving me the silent treatment…” He sighs out, and stays where he is. You reload as he talks, “I was looking around for you, and another Kankri pointed me here. He was surprisingly nice, shortened down his essays to fourteen thousand words for me since I was in a rush.” He chuckled halfheartedly, adding to the thick atmosphere. “Should’ve seen my face when I heard you were somewhere like this. Never would have guessed, although, should I really be surprised?” He laughs again, but it dies in his throat when he realises you still won’t speak to him. “He told you.”

You pull the trigger and fire down the range, hitting your mark, once, twice, three times.

“You’re mad, I get that. I really want to hit you up with excuses and try and get a pity party going, but I don’t think you’d buy it, definitely not while you’re in this mood- not a tantrum kind of mood, but emotional state sort of mood- just to clarify.”

You shoot again, and press the button next to you to bring the target sheet closer so you can change it. Maybe you should change weapon?

“I flirted with him, yeah. It came out like instinct. Do I regret it? Of course I do… Not that I get why this would upset you this much, it’s not like it's any of your business.”

You flinch at that, and let the new target sheet flatten on the table beneath your palm.

“If you were to flirt with _my_ dancestor, you wouldn’t see me getting all passive aggressive. It’d be weird, but hey, it’s whatever to me.”

“You really don’t understand what you did,” you don’t look at him.

“Okay, I guess it’s probably a bit uncomfortable for you, but… Mostly I just thought you’d be a bit mad that I… I don’t know, went behind your back.”

You turn your head around at that, and try your best to give him the blandest, most emotionless stare conjurable. “You went looking for my young descendent, who looks just like me, and proceeded to engage with him in a suggestive manner.”

This time he’s the one to flinch, fins flattening down against his neck, covering his gills.

“The only reason I am allowing you to speak to me is because I made a promise that I would listen to your recollection of events. Had I not made this promise, you wouldn’t have made it a single foot into this area.

“Kankri-“ he stumbles for words. “Fucking- look. You’re overreacting.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah, you are. What exactly pissed you off about this? Is it the fact that he looks like you? Or maybe it’s the fact you’re jealous suddenly that I’m giving some off brand version of you attention.”

Your brows furrow at that, and you suppress the urge to hiss at him. “If you had flirted with another variation of myself or even me I wouldn’t have a problem, not entirely. But it’s the simple fact that you went looking for _him_ . You do _not_ flirt with him, you do not try anything with him. Anybody else, just _not him_.”

This makes him shrink a bit and consider you, “you really care about him, don’t you?”

You fold your arms and lean back against the window to the range. “He’s too good for someone like you.”

“Oh.” He seems stunned for a moment.

“I do wonder how someone like him could come from me,” You gesture to yourself. “It's a strange thing.” You look down a moment, before turning back to change the sheet again, fixing the new one up.

You can hear him moving closer, and for the moment you allow it. You aren’t detecting any sort of hostility, so you just stare down the range and press the button to send the target sheet all the way down.

“You’re not bad, if that’s what you’re trying to imply,” he says just behind you. “Terrible, would be more accurate. But, not bad.”

You just frown at that. “Interesting choice of words.”

He huffs a short laugh.

“It’s a complicated matter,” you tell him, turning back to face him again. And oh, yes, he got quite a bit closer, a couple of steps and he’d be pressed against you.

“Isn’t it always?” He grins.

“I suppose.”

He blinks down at you a minute in silence before rubbing the back of his neck. “I can’t make any promises about talking to him or not, but if it really bothers you, I’ll quit the… You know. Me stuff, with him. Believe it or not, the guy got the point across well enough on his own. He’s even more jumpy than you are, almost felt bad for him if he wasn’t insulting me so much.”

“That would be appreciated.” You nod along, pleased to at least see he knows he’s done something wrong, and wants to correct it. And that Karkat seems to have shoved a boot up Cronus’ ass, in a metaphorical sense.

“So… We cool?” He asks hopefully.

You consider it a moment with a tilt of your head. “For the time being, it would seem I am appeased,” you glance back before hoisting yourself up on the table beside your rifle at the window, and cross one leg over to other. “You made quite an impression on Karkat, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh,” he moves to lean against the wall of your stall. “Is that good or?”

You hum, taking in the distance between you both. “He hasn’t made any real attempt to convince me to reproach you. So for you I imagine it is ultimately good.”

“Oh, huh.”

“Did you expect another answer?” Your brow quirks inquisitively.

“Considering this delightful location and your death glare from a few minutes ago? Yeah, I did,” he shrugs. “What’s with this place, anyway?”

“It’s a memory, combined with wishful thinking on my part,” you inform him, looking behind you at the range that’s now pitch black. “It’s a forgotten relic from Beforus.”

“A shooting range,” he deadpans, not satisfied with your answer.

“Yes,” you look back at him. “It was part of my home, well, my caretaker's home. They were never around as often as they had liked to be, a rather busy sort, as many highbloods tended to be. After several sweeps of my presence, I assumed the novelty of keeping something so rare had worn off. I was never challenged in my explorations of such a huge hive, so I gravitated to a few areas. One happened to be a shooting range.”

He looks taken aback, “caretaker?”

“I had a caretaker, yes. Does this surprise you?”

“Well, yes. Why would you need a caretaker? You’re not-“

“Physically or mentally incapable? I’m aware,” you know you sound bitter now, you can feel the muscles in your face twitch. “However, I was not hatched into the same circumstances as everyone else, I didn’t have a sign or spectrum aligned blood colour to relate me to anyone else, and nor did I have a lusus. I’m sure it was quite the headache trying to figure out what to do with me. Naturally, I entered the culling system, since I was too young to care for myself and nobody else was available to take me. I never really left that system until we entered the game. I was still too young to be considered capable of caring for myself. Especially since my attributes included a smaller stature and supposed weaker build that might be considered to be a handicap in our society. Along with the obvious mitigating circumstances of my genetic defect.”

“That‘s… Fucked.” He seems lost for words.

“Quite.”

“So, then, is that why you joined the team? To escape?”

You blink a couple of times, “that was the main motivator at the time, yes. I didn’t much enjoy my life on Beforus, truthfully. There are good memories from then, like meeting my friends, but there are regrettable ones too.”

“Same with everyone.” He leans closer. "So you'd never want to go back? Be alive and do whatever you were going to do before our dumbass decision to play build me up before we go go."

You had thought about that, not often, but you allow your mind to wander on occasion. Your answer is always the same. “No,” you say with certainty.

He smiles, “me neither. Besides, this wouldn’t be happening if we never played the game.”

You allow a small smile to form as you speak. “I suppose not.”

“And you definitely lightened up a bit, in your cold and methodical ways,” as he speaks, he moves away from where he was leaning so that he’s right in front of you, bent over slightly with his hands leaning on the table either side of your legs

“Aren’t we feeling ambitious.” You don’t really move, away from or against him.

“Incredibly,” he answers, leaning back just an inch, seeming to be wary of actually touching you.

You roll your eyes at him and tap your foot against his chest absently. “I find it almost admirable how you walk such a fine line without straying too far to either side. Do you know what happens when you stray too far?” You lean down closer to speak to him quietly, keeping his attention singularly on you. “You fall,” you push him back with your foot, forcing him away from you.

He steadies himself with a chuckle, eyes not leaving you. “If you’re wanting my attention, you’ve got it.”

“I know I do,” you respond. “Would you like to try?” You pick up your rifle and sit it in your lap. “I know your strife specibus suggested you have an interest in artillery, my apologies if I am incorrect.”

“No, no. Guns are fine,” he pauses, and looks down at the rifle. “It’s just been a while, y’know?”

You nod, “I understand. There has been little need to use any weaponry since our timely demise.”

He smiles and reaches out for the gun, which you hand him before hopping down from the table to step aside. “Anything with a scope?” He asks, looking down the sights.

“Several, in fact. But I don’t believe there is a need for scopes at such short range.”

“True. Still nice, though.” Yes, his weapon was scoped, you believe. He must feel rather odd with the unfamiliar setting. All the same, he aims and fires, just shy of the target. He fires again, and he at least hits the sheet. “Dammit…”

“Trouble?” You ask, knowing full well what the problem was.

“Yeah, just… I dunno, not my day I guess.”

“Don’t worry, I understand. Typically I find I miss more when my mind strays from the target,” you turn to go over to the storage lockers and search out something you believe will be more his style.

“Oh?” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Yes, Cronus. That was suggestive,” you confirm for him, before pulling out one of your rare scoped rifles. “Suggestive of your wandering thoughts, at least. How is this?”

His eyes widen at the large rifle you struggle to hold correctly, before coming over to take it from you. He plays about with it, checking out the sights before nodding. “It’s good. Maybe a bit overpowered.”

You nod in agreement, “quite a bit. Luckily we exist somewhere that allows for modifications to the surroundings of its inhabitants.”

Down the range changes to a balcony, a perfect birds nest overlooking an array of buildings with the shadows of monstrous forms created from memories of your prototyping. Cronus takes a few shots to get the hang of the weapon, before firing with an accuracy you know takes years to learn. You smile as you watch him, not surprised he can shoot so well, despite how long it’s been.

After a while, he stops, and lowers the weapon to turn to you. “Dude. This is pretty cool, see how many I hit?”

“I saw, yes. A majority of the hits would have been lethal. I expected no less from you.”

He gives you this funny look as if you’d just said something surprisingly amusing. “As much as I’d love to shoot a bunch of things forever, which I actually don’t, for the record. I’d rather just chill out with you.”

You blink up at him, “oh?”

“Yeah, chief. This is fun and all, but I didn’t come here to play about with your… arsenal.” He sits the rifle off to the side and leans back up against the wall.

“That’s a shame. I had every intention of firing out all my frustrations until the end of the universe.”

He chuckles almost nervously. “But?”

You hold your hands behind your back, “you assume there is a but?”

“You’re a butt.”

You scoff at him, “whatever do you mean by that?”

“You heard,” he folds his arms. “ _Butt_.”

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more abhorrently infantile…” You groan.

“You haven’t left, so it can’t be _that_ abhorrent.”

“It is certainly getting there,” you tilt your head as you move closer, testing the distance between you. It must have made him uncomfortable because he moves away, barely an inch, eyes following you as you walk around his line of sight. “I have something that I want to give you,” you decide out loud, halting where you stand before pulling a thread from your sweater. 

He looks down, moving closer to see what you mean. “A thread? Ain’t Porrim going to be pissed that you’re tearing up her masterpiece.”

“Firstly, this is hardly her masterpiece, secondly; it belongs to me,” you look back up at him defensively. “Thirdly, may I have your hand a moment?”

“... Why?” He asks cautiously, but brings his hand up regardless.

You wrap the red thread around his wrist twice, tying the end into a little knot. “I believe this is customary.”

“Customary for what...” he takes his hand back to look at the thread.

“You’re important to me, and I feel like this will provide a reminder of that, for you and for others.” You inform him, testing the words you hadn’t thought you would say. “I want you to remember this.”

He stares at you, lips apart as his fins perk up. “If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting…”

“What am I suggesting, Cronus?”

He looks back at the thread. “A relationship,” he says quietly.

You nod, and hold your hands behind your back again. “Yes. But do not allow your thoughts to linger on unwarranted presumptions. What I intend is something of a platonic nature, but certainly exclusive to the two of us. If at any point you feel unfulfilled or uncomfortable, I would relieve you of any obligations this relationship entails and allow you space to pursue any other goals or freedoms you are due as my friend.”

“You want to be moirails?” He asks as if he’s unsure he’s understanding the situation he has found himself in.

“Yes,” you nod, “I acknowledge that this discredits my previous declarations of both exclusion from romantic entanglements and my path of celibacy. Please consider that the celibacy part still stands as a definite. But I have decided that I rather enjoy you, in spite of the complications and poor choices we have both made, enough so that it has compromised my ability to speak to others as I had before. As bothersome as that is, and as much as we seem to argue and generally act negatively towards one another. I have enjoyed the positive moments between us, more than I had expected. I had a choice; remove you from my life entirely, which I don't think I could commit to for long, or, take a chance on something that has made me feel good. I want more of this. I want some kind of fulfilment to my existence. That is, if you would agree to enter such a relationship with me.”

“I-“ he pauses, looking at you like you’ve just attempted a backflip off the balcony.

“You can say no, I won’t be offended. Disappointed, but I can accept and respect a refusal.”

His stare becomes more serious, like he does sometimes. “I’m not saying no.”

“Now there is most definitely a but.” You take a seat on the wall behind you.

He sighs out through his nose and gives his jaw a long and thoughtful rub. “Look.”

You prepare yourself with that word, brows raised as you lock eyes with him.

He bites his lip in what you assume is an anxious manner. “There’s a lot that’s different about us, yeah? You can agree with that statement,” you nod, “then you acknowledge that we want different things, too. I don’t need to go into detail about what those things are; everybody can fuckin guess.”

“You would like to engage with me on a sexual level?”

He stutters at that, hunching over a bit as his eyes narrow. “I would like to do a lot of things.” He holds his head in his hand. “And you do not.”

“So?”

“So, that’ll just… Be on my mind, thinking of us as a _thing_ but not like that. And the flirting. You can’t pretend that the flirting hasn’t been a thing. It’ll fuck me up, and this whole thing will just break apart.”

“I understand. So you do not want a serious sort of relationship with me.”

“No- I…” he groans, and moves over to sit beside you. “I can’t even touch you. How am I supposed to… _You know_. Be in a serious relationship, if you just… Barely let me near you.”

You believe he has a good point there. Shit. “It’s not like I don’t want to.”

“Which part?”

You hiss under your breath. “You haven’t taken leave of your senses so far as to ask such a stupid question.”

He deflates, fins falling back.

You just sigh, resting your elbows on your legs as you relax. “There’s some things I choose to do, and not do. And then there are things I have no choice in. It makes me uncomfortable. All of it. Not specifically because of you, but just because of my circumstances.”

“... Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly,” you growl quietly.

He tilts his head and leans forward, mimicking your stance, only his hands are clasped together between his legs. “That’s fine. But you can talk to me about things. If I’m going to be your moirail.”

You don’t look at him, instead concentrating on the way the ends of your sleeves feel. Soft, smooth. “I didn’t allow my circumstances escalate to an it,” You almost don’t get those words out, voice feeling like it was about to crackle and burn out. “I… Could tell things were coming to some sort of climax. They were motivated by boredom, I think, and I was there, unable to do anything, unable to say anything to anybody without being fucking shushed into a false state of calm. And I had considered running away, finding Porrim or… I don’t know. Saying something to someone.” You’re lost in it at this point, unable to really control the words. “Then I heard about the game. At first I had thought it was the last thing I needed to care about. But, once people started disappearing and the meteors started falling, I knew I had my way out.”

For once, he’s completely silent, barely even breathing. He looks at you, expression hard to read, before he stares down at his feet.

“I didn’t mean to unload all of that at once. It was something I… I don’t talk about it. Porrim, I think had an inclination, but it was something I kept for myself.”

“That’s sad.”

You blink, and nod.

“They-“ he tries to speak, but he seems to struggle for the words. “Did they do something?”

You don’t move. “Attempts were made.”

“... Was it… Someone like me?”

You frown at that, “I don’t think there is anybody quite like you, I’ll be honest.”

He huffs a short, uncomfortable laugh, and you wish you could smile with him. “You know what I mean,” he flicks his fins with his fingers.

“It was not, no. I do not associate yourself with them, at least not when you are like this,” you let your legs swing, once, twice, and then stop. “If you reminded me of that person, I wouldn’t be near you, quite frankly. There _are_ moments when you make me uneasy, I must admit, but I would never think of you the way I think of them.”

He just nods for a moment, and stares at his feet again. “That’s… Just heavy.”

You shrug, “it is what it is.”

“And you haven’t, like talked to anybody about this.”

“Not really, no.” You glance up at him to see him frowning, looking between you and the ground. “I wanted to give you an answer. For my actions, and any future actions, you deserve a real reason for it all.”

“I mean. I don’t, it’s fine,” he insists, raising a hand.

“You say that now because you have heard some of my past and feel sympathy for me. You would have wanted a reason, other than my blatant prudence in regards to our relationship.”

“Okay, I wouldn’t call it prudence.”

“I doubt you would. I’m surprised you understand that word.”

“Fuck you, Kankri,” he bites back. “What do you want? What do you actually want from me, then? No touching, fine. I get that. But if you don’t let me feel bad for you when you hit me in the face with that kind of shit, what the hell even is this?”

You part your lips, and you can’t seem to get any words out. You just shrug, and look back down.

He lets out something between a groan and sigh. “You’re impossible. Amazing, in just about every way. But goddamn impossible.”

“Flatterer,” You mutter, taking a moment to lean your head in your palm as you crouch over your legs. “It’ll get you nowhere.”

“I wouldn’t say that. You like me, after all. For whatever reason,” he’s smiling when you glance up.

You tilt your head towards him. “I wouldn’t return the compliment of amazing, because I don’t like to make an observation that’s both out of proportion and clearly meant to be simple posturing. In all honesty, you are beyond my reasoning, a being that invites my curiosity and warm regards.”

“Oh?” His smile spreads further as he seems elated at your response. “Thanks.”

You nod, and tap your fingers rhythmically against your cheek. “I can’t offer as much to the table as most other couples tend to do, but at the very least I will be honest with you. There’s a lot that can come from words as opposed to physical language.”

“Oh yes talk dirty to me.”

You groan and pull your hand over your face, “if I were not already dead I would wish to die.”

He just laughs.

“Do you ever consider the words that leave your mouth before they are said?” You ask.

“Most of the time,” he smiles, “not unlike yourself.”

You just shrug your shoulders at that statement. “I try to collect my thoughts and project them in a way I find clear for my listeners. Doing anything other than that would simply be a waste of breath.”

“And that’s good for you?”

“Yes?” Your brow quirks. “You assume otherwise?”

“Seems like a hassle, that’s all.”

“It is not,” you begin to explain to him, “in fact, I find it quite enjoyable to organise and present my vocabulary, and of course my knowledge and opinions. What I find difficult is genuinely relating to another person's perspective or their interests. I can presume and work out appeals and dislikes, and occasionally compare them with my own. And in my experience the one thing that connects people is suffering in one form or another. While I try to avoid topics that can be triggering and cause discomfort, it does bring a sense of association for me, at least on a base level of communication and emotional contact. Overall I enjoy discourse.”

“And the sound of your own voice.”

“Would you prefer I stay silent?” You warn him quietly.

He squints at you, “I wasn’t implying that, so don’t pretend I was.”

You just hum skeptically.

He lifts his hand and motions with his flat palm, “so you just want to talk.”

“I don’t ever intend not to, if that’s your line of questioning.”

“No, I mean like, dating,” he says the last word like it’s a foreign concept.

“Does this displease you?”

He glances over at you and his lips pinch together. “I just… I don’t want to just talk.”

“I don’t want physical contact.”

“Then I guess we’re stuck at a crossroads,” he puts plainly.

“I fail to see a compromise.”

“ _Yay_ ,” he says flatly, rubbing his legs. “Question.”

“You may ask.”

“Are we really so useless at communication that we gotta talk to your kid ancestor to be able to not screw up our conversations?”

You stare at him with a steady pause of thought. “He is wise beyond his years.”

“That’s a yes, then. Man, are we useless.” He sighs.

“I would have said conditioned with certain failures, useless suggests without hope, an absolution to the fact.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was suggesting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so.
> 
> First of all I want to address the removal of the Karkat interlude (that was chapter 5). It didn’t fit, especially when I realised I wanted this to end. But if you’re interested in that meteorstuck/davekat story that has the same feel as this, perhaps a bit more angsty, then you can check that out. (When I start publishing it)
> 
> Next of all;
> 
> I want the end of story to be here, because truthfully, I did with Cronus and Kankri what I wanted to do with them. They’ve reached a point that I’ve tried to extend upon (in different ways, like I’ve written alternative routes for the -now scrapped- next chapter) and none of them fit. It felt cheap. Like I’m dismissing what I’ve already written to force this cheesey relationship. That’s not what I wanted.
> 
> If this helps; I originally planned for them to eventually die to Lord English, that was the original end. So this way you get to think of them as having a choice; being able to have a life and develop. Which is basically what I wanted to do with them, offer them an alternative; a positive with some sort of depth. (And then kill them, but that felt wrong after I finished these 5 chapters with them...)
> 
> So a somewhat hopeful/optimistic, and non dramatic end it is. Because real life isn’t that dramatic, and I was going for more realism/depth in their characters.
> 
> I might do an epilogue, you can try and convince me to write more, but it’ll probably lack the feel I was going for with this fanfic; cheesey relationship stuff you’ve read before and stupid drama that feels forced.
> 
> Thank you for reading, it means a lot. If you’ve left kudos, bookmarked, commented, another big thank you!


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